


Heaven Sent

by Raha



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24464644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raha/pseuds/Raha
Summary: Charlie prays for help with the Hotel, and Heaven actually responds - with the Archangel Sandalphon. Instead of trying to destroy every demon she meets, she tries to give them therapy instead, which is traumatizing for everyone involved because nobody in Hell really knows how to deal with these 'emotion' things. Lots of trigger warnings, including: lots of swearing, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all the abuses really, rape, sex, graphic violence, depression, PTSD, crying, suicide and character death (or as much as anyone can die when their soul is basically immortal). Also, lots of cuddles.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Original Character(s), Angel Dust & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne & Vaggie
Comments: 139
Kudos: 204





	1. The Beginning Part

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to Heaven Sent. I've been feeding this little plot bunny for a while now, and finally decided to just sit down and get it out there. This is the first story I've posted on AO3, but I've also got an account of Fanfiction.net under the same name. But I really like the Hazbin community over here, so here I am (also got a bunch of unfinished stories over there I feel guilty about neglecting sooooo....) 
> 
> Obviously, this will also be an AU as most of this shit is based off of one canon episode, all the fanart I've been shoveling into my eyes, and whatever psychoanalytical BS my brain can come up with to describe some of these characters, based solely on their appearance. So, pretty much every Hazbin fanfic out there right now. Please enjoy.
> 
> Also, here is a link to a pic of my OC, Sandalphon. Made her with the Epic Angel Creator on Azaleasdolls:  
> https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3807371112640658&set=pb.100001034192992.-2207520000..&type=3  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ ME:  
> Edited 11/3/2020. Fixed some errors. Changed some accents a bit to better fit the characters. Decided to add chapter titles.

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO I Oo.**

**The Beginning Part**

* * *

The Hazbin Hotel was an absolute nightmare. 

In hindsight, the idea of putting a bunch of dysfunctional, neurotic, psychotic people all under the same roof and expecting them all to play nice together would sound like a complete clusterfuck to anyone with half a brain. 

No wonder they’d all laughed at her. 

“ _WILL YA SHUT DA FUCK UP ALREADY?!?”_

“ _NOT UNTIL YOU CAN GET IT THROUGH YOUR STUPID FUCKING HEAD IT’S_ **_NOT THAT KIND OF HOTEL!!!_ **”

“ _HEY, IT’S_ **_MY_ ** _GODDAMN ROOM! I CAN DO WHATEVA' DA FUCK AND_ **_WHOEVA' DA FUCK_ ** _I WANT IN DERE!!!”_

Charlie groaned, listening to the screaming match going on out in the hallway, and reached up to rub tiredly at her temples. The Hotel had been open for a whole month now since a certain Radio Demon's arrival, and she’d long since lost count of all the fights that had broken out between Angel Dust and Vaggie. It was like dealing with a pair of fucking children, sometimes. 

Pushing down the irritated thoughts Charlie stood from her desk, then plastered a smile on her face and stepped out of her office - only to almost face-plant right into the floor when she tripped over Niffty, who dropped a bucket of filthy water all over the carpet.

“Oh, great!” Niffty cried furiously, throwing her hands in the air and whirling on Charlie with an absolutely _withering_ glare. “Wow, thanks a _lot_ , Charlie! Like I didn’t just spend _all morning_ cleaning this shit up!"

“I - I’m sorry,” Charlie stammered, hurriedly backing away from the tiny demon, her insides twisting with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Niffty, I didn’t see you there… I-I can help you clean this - “

“ _No thanks_ ,” Nifty snapped flatly, turning away from her with an irritated huff. “ _You’ve_ done enough. Now if you’ll excuse me, _I need more bleach_.”

“Um, okay...then, I’ll just...” Charlie said in a small voice, edging past the fuming cyclops and the reeking mess on the carpet - vomit, from the smell of it - and hurried away down the hall. She’d discovered very quickly that Niffty was very _particular_ about things being clean, and being cleaned in the _right way_. If they weren’t...well, things got nasty in a hurry. It was better to just leave her to it. 

Stepping out into the main foyer, Charlie noticed Husk had fallen asleep at the front desk again, snoring loudly with his claws wrapped around a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. It didn’t matter how many times she’d tried talking to him, he was clearly only interested in the free booze, and didn’t give two shits about actually running the front desk properly. She had hoped she would be able to crack him in time, but he was one of the grumpiest, closed off, anti-social demons she’d ever met. And having grown up in Hell, that was saying something. 

“Ah, Charlie!” said a cheerful voice, a clawed hand landing on her shoulder, and Charlie let out a sharp yelp, nearly jumping right out of her skin. She whirled, already knowing who it was, to find Alastor standing directly behind her, a toothy smug-looking grin splitting his face wide open. “Good evening! Hope I didn’t startle you too much, my dear?”

His smile widened, without a hint of apology, clearly having done it on purpose. 

_He’s just trying to get a rise out of me,_ Charlie reminded herself, taking a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” she replied, her smile strained but stubbornly in place. His eyes narrowed in amusement, head cocking to the side as he studied her for a discomfiting moment.

“Sounds like our effeminate degenerate has been breaking the Hotel’s rules again,” he noted, glancing in the direction of the continued shouting, which by now had devolved into a name-calling grudge match. His smile sharpened even more, if that was possible, and a faint laugh-track came through the subtle static in her ears. “Would you like me to...take care of the matter?”

“No!” Charlie said quickly, trying not to imagine the kind of ‘punishment’ Alastor might dream up. “No, you, uh...better let me handle it.”

“Better hurry, then,” Alastor leered, clearly enjoying the chaos. “I’m afraid Niffty’s getting a little tired of cleaning up the blood!”

“Right…” Charlie sighed, running a hand through her hair and ignoring Alastor’s amused smirk as she trudged past him and in the direction of the screaming. 

There was the sound of a radio tuning from behind her, and she resisted the urge to groan as Alastor began speaking into his microphone, reporting the drama live for all of Hell to hear.

_"Well, it's that time again folks!"_ he announced enthusiastically. _"Vaggie and Angel Dust are at it again, with another rip-roaring, smack-down fight for the ages! This time, it seems our dear old pal Angel has been conducting his sordid affairs within the walls of this very Hotel! Oh, the scandal! Oh, the non-existent humanity! Luckily, our brave Vaggie won't let that slide without a fight! Let's listen in, shall we?"_

  
  


“BITCH!”

“FUCK UP!”

“GUYS!” Charlie cried, stepping in between the two snarling demons and physically forcing them apart. No easy task, as Angel had grabbed several handfuls of Vaggie’s hair, and Vaggie had both fists around his throat. “Guys! Calm down! Stoppit!”

“Den tell dis stupid cow I can do whateva' da fuck I want in my OWN FUCKIN' ROOM!” Angel shrieked, pointing accusingly at Vaggie with one hand, flipping her off with the other, while his lower extremities flailed wildly in impotent rage.

“The only reason you even have that room is because of US, you fucking slut!” Vaggie screamed back, trying to push past Charlie so she could keep strangling the spider-demon. “The LEAST you could do is NOT use it to support your FILTHY FUCKING LIFESTYLE!”

"At least I GOT a fuckin' lifestyle, bitch! _"_ Angel retorted, flipping her off with all four hands now. "Why don'tcha pull dat stick outta yer ass and try it some time!"

_"ENOUGH!!!"_ Charlie bellowed at the top of her lungs, her eyes flashing red and her horns spiking for an instant, making the other two jump and blink at her in surprise. "Now I have had it with you two fighting all the time! This is supposed to be a place of healing, remember? I know it's hard, but can't you guys at least _try_ to get along? Angel, you - "

"Hey, _I'm_ not da one with da problem here!" Angel snapped defensively. 

"No, you're just the one _constantly fucking everything up_ ," Vaggie hissed venomously at him.

"Everyt'ing and everyone, sugartits!" Angel sneered, his long tongue snaking out between his sharpened teeth to curl lewdly in her direction. Vaggie lunged at him with an infuriated snarl, only to get dragged back by Charlie while the spider laughed mockingly. 

"Vaggie, come on - " Charlie tried cajoling, but Vaggie jerked away from her.

"No!" she snapped, the red glow in her eye flaring like a stoked ember. "Don't you get it?! All he ever does is make us look like a goddamn joke! He doesn't want to change, he just wants to take advantage, and I'm _fucking sick of his shit_!"

"Hey, just say da word and I'm outta here!" Angel shouted. "Not like I got better shit to do den listen to you bitch at me all fuckin' day!" 

"Like you're not dying to run back to your fucking sugar daddy, you stupid whore," Vaggie spat scathingly, smirking triumphantly at the unhinged rage that flashed through Angel’s eyes. "Yeah, don't think I don't know where you're always sneaking off to. Everybody knows Val's got you wrapped around his nasty little dick. If you miss him so fucking much, then what the Hell are you hanging around here for?!"

"W-wait, _that's_ where you've been going...?" Charlie asked, turning to look up at Angel in confusion, who flinched away from her like he'd been burned. "Back to the studio? But I thought...I thought you said you wanted to go clean? If that's not true, then why are you…?"

"Because he is _using_ you!" Vaggie shouted in frustration before Angel could even open his mouth. "That's what sinners like him _do_! He is _ruining_ us, and you're just letting him do it!"

"Ya know what, I don't have to take dis shit from you!" Angel snarled, shoving past both girls and storming off down the hallway. "You want me gone so badly, fine! Fuck dis place, fuck dis redemption _bullshit_ , and _FUCK YOU_!" 

"Good riddance!" Vaggie shouted after him. 

Angel's only reply was to flip her off again as he walked away.

"N-no, wait, Angel…!" Charlie cried, her heart thundering in her ears and her whole body thrumming with shocked adrenaline. 

What the Hell had just happened?

"Charlie, let him go," Vaggie huffed, rubbing angrily at her temples and giving her girlfriend an exasperated look. "Trust me, we are better off _without_ that walking dumpster fire."

"Vaggie, he's our _only_ patient!" Charlie pointed out shrilly. 

"Yeah, and there's a reason for that!" Vaggie insisted. "Think about it! Anyone who wants to straighten themselves out is gonna be looking at our track record. And what are they gonna see? One drugged up porn star who can't stop running back to his pimp for a fix. Hun, if you want this thing to even get off the ground, then we need to focus our attention on demons we can _actually_ help. Sinners who might have a _chance._ Angel Dust? I'm sorry, sweetie, but he is too far gone."

“You don’t _know_ that!” Charlie cried, frustrated tears tracking down her cheeks. “You never give him a chance, Vaggie! If you would just - ”

“What, so this is _my_ fault?!” Vaggie said angrily. 

“No! That’s not what I mean!” Charlie shook her head. “I just think - ”

“You know what?” Vaggie cut her off, refusing to meet her eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to...I need to blow off some steam, or something. I’ll see you later.”

“Vaggie, wait…!” Charlie begged, but Vaggie shook her head, then turned and walked away, shoulders tense and her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. Charlie wanted to go after her, wanted to explain herself, wanted to fix this somehow, but she didn’t have the words. Maybe...maybe it would be better to give Vaggie space right now, get her head on right…

Charlie buried her face in her hands and let out a shuddering breath, tears burning behind her eyes. 

“Well, that could have gone better!” said a cheerful voice, and now Charlie just wanted to sink through the floor. She peeked out from behind her fingers to find Alastor standing next to her, grinning down at her with all of his jagged teeth. 

On any other day, she would have insisted things were okay, that they could work this out. That Vaggie and Angel just needed some time to cool off, and then things would go back to (relatively) normal. That this was just a pothole on the road to redemption.

But...she was just so _tired_...

“...Yeah," she said instead, just wanting to go up to her room and have a good cry - but she wouldn’t. Not in front of Alastor. Tears were only seen as weakness down here. 

"Cheer up, my dear!” Alastor smiled, throwing an arm around her shoulders and yanking her close. “No need to make such a face! Why, these little spats are the highlight of the day!”

“I’m so happy we could entertain you,” Charlie deadpanned flatly. 

“That’s the spirit!” Alastor grinned, clapping her back cheerfully. “Of course, now that Angel Dust seems to have scarpered, I suppose we’ll need some _new_ entertainment. Not to worry, my dear! Hell’s full of desperate lowlifes, I’m sure I can find one or two foolish enough to actually buy into this farce!”

“...Thanks,” Charlie frowned, too exhausted to even argue with him. 

“Come now,” Alastor smiled, chucking her gently under the chin, making her blink up at him in surprise. “Smile, darling. It wouldn’t do to lose heart now, when you've only just started. Why don’t you join me in the kitchen for a nice cup of tea? I’m sure that will lift your spirits in no time!”

“I...okay?” Charlie said, shaking her head at him in confusion, her heart clenching tight within her chest. She was still getting used to his antics - one minute he could be tearing her down, laughing at her failures, and the next he was trying to comfort her on those same failures. It gave her whiplash sometimes, kept her off-balance, and always a little anxious of what he might do next. 

Alastor held out his arm, gesturing towards the kitchen with a gentlemanly little bow, and she hesitated. But...she could really use someone to talk to, and since Vaggie had walked away, maybe...maybe Alastor wouldn’t mind. Tentatively, Charlie nodded and gingerly slid her hand around his elbow, and followed him down the hall. 

But when she stepped through the door, the room she found herself in was not the kitchen of the Happy Hotel. Charlie stopped in her tracks, abruptly alone in a dark room, with no idea how she’d gotten there. What - ?

And then the light flicked on, making Charlie jump, and she immediately recognized her old bedroom from…back home…

"There's my cute li'l dumpling!" 

Charlie whirled on her heel, heart jumping into her throat, and standing there in the doorway was her -

"Dad!" she squeaked. 

Lucifer was as impeccably dressed as ever, in his wide brimmed top hat and white coat. A rictus grin curled up beneath his hooded gaze, and Charlie flailed just a bit under his scrutiny. Did her hair look alright? Was there anything in her teeth? Were her clothes wrinkled?

"Sugarpie, it's been too long!" Lucifer beamed, sweeping forward to wrap her in a tight hug. "Did you gain weight recently? My, you've just shot up like a weed, haven't you? You'll be as tall as your mother one of these days!"

"It's - it's good to see you, too…" Charlie stuttered, a wavering smile fixed firmly in place. "But, um - not that I don't love being home again, because I do - it's just… We talked about the summoning thing, remember? You know I don't like it…"

"I know, but I wanted to see my honey-bun, and I just couldn't wait a second longer!" Lucifer replied with an airy smile and a dismissive wave.

"I've been calling…" Charlie said hesitantly. "But you and Mom have been so busy lately…"

"So have you, from what I've heard!" Lucifer said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. "Now. What's all this nonsense about a _hotel to rehabilitate sinners_?"

The claws on her shoulder dug in just a bit too hard.

Charlie swallowed nervously.

“It’s...been open for over a month, y’know…” she said quietly, staring at the floor, trying not to be too hurt that he hadn’t seemed to have even _noticed_ until now.

“Now, baby-cakes, you know how busy Daddy gets right after an Extermination,” Lucifer smiled sharply, his eyes glinting like knives in the dark. “There are territories to reassign, new Overlords to greet, goodbye parties to plan. I’ve had a lot on my plate lately, so I would appreciate a little understanding, my dear.”

“Y-you’re right, I’m sorry…” Charlie said, brow crumpling and her insides twisting. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“Besides, you’ve come up with so many of these pet projects over the years, it’s honestly hard to keep track of them all!” Lucifer continued cheerfully. “What happened to that little cafe you wanted to open up? Or the art exhibit? Or the dance club?”

“O-oh…” Charlie said, squirming like a pinned bug beneath her father’s judging gaze. “That was...I mean, they were just...Well, you know how hard it is to get something off the ground here…”

“Because you gave up,” Lucifer nodded knowingly. “That’s always been your problem, y’anno. Whenever something gets a bit difficult, you always run off and start something new. You never were very good at sticking things out, muffin.”

“I...what?” Charlie said, her cheeks burning redder than usual, and her breath catching in her throat. “I don’t - why would you say - it’s not my fault if something just doesn’t _work_!”

“And what makes you think the Hotel will?” Lucifer wanted to know, sickly sweetly. 

"I...I don’t know,” Charlie replied haltingly, struggling to explain herself. “It's just… I know there's a problem with overpopulation, and… I wanted to help? So, I was thinking… maybe… maybe there's a better way to deal with things. You know, that doesn't involve mass murder every year… So, I thought, if I could rehabilitate the demons here and - and send them to Heaven instead, maybe we wouldn't need the Cleanse so often…"

"I see," Lucifer said, his too-wide smile never faltering. "And what makes you think Heaven would _ever_ accept a demon from Hell, even if by some miracle you actually managed to get any of these fuck-wits to straighten out?"

Charlie blinked. 

She… hadn't thought of that. The idea that Heaven might not let a demon in, no matter _how_ much they bettered themselves, hadn't even crossed her mind.

"But… but it's _Heaven_ ," she stammered uncertainly. "I thought… I thought they were all about… f-forgiveness and…"

"You've been listening to all that New Age bullshit these modern morons have been spewing lately," Lucifer said, shaking his head. "But if any of that was true, there wouldn't be so many sinners down here in the first place, would there? Remember, it's _Heaven_ that carries out the Cleanse every year. The Exterminators are _angels_ , not demons. Now does that sound very _forgiving_ to you?"

"Well… No, but…"

"And besides, Heaven isn't the wonderful place you seem to think it is," Lucifer continued breezily, tapping her lightly on the nose. "I used to live there, remember? And I'm sorry to burst your bubble, puddin-pop, but it's _exceedingly_ dull. There are so many rules and regulations you can hardly sneeze without pissing off the higher ups. If you aren't perfect, if you don't toe the line, if you make even one mistake, that's it. They drop you like a sack of shit, and there are no second chances. Believe me, I should know. Now is that any way to live? At least down here people are free to do as they please."

"Well, yeah, but… Dad, nobody here is _happy_ ," Charlie said in a small, pained voice..

"What are you talking about?" Lucifer laughed airily. "Everywhere you go, people are smiling ear to ear!"

_…those aren't real smiles,_ Charlie thought miserably, but she knew arguing with him on the matter was hopeless. 

"Now, why don't you come home and forget about all this redemption nonsense?" Lucifer cajoled. "Wouldn't that be easier? Trust me, plumpkin, it’s just going to end in failure and tears. The souls down here are beyond anyone’s help at this point, and I don’t want to see you disappointed again. Come on, look, we kept your bedroom just the way you left it…"

"No!" Charlie cried, finally ducking out from beneath Lucifer's arm and stepping away from him. "Look, I know redemption might be a long shot, might even be impossible, but we won't know that until we _try_. That's all I'm asking: just let me try. Because - you’re right. Maybe I _do_ give up on things too easily, but that’s why I _can’t_ give up now! These are my people, and there's good in them, I _know_ there is! And if Heaven won't see that… Then I'll just have to convince them!"

“And what makes you think you have a chance in Hell of redeeming these lowlifes?” Lucifer asked, a snide curl to his lip. “When you have no idea what drives them to sin in the first place? When you have no concept of what _suffering_ truly is? It’s all fine and dandy to sit up on your little pedestal, and say ‘you can do better’, but you have no fucking clue. Do you? You’ve always been handed everything on a silver platter.”

“I…” Charlie stammered, her eyes burning and her vision blurring with frustrated tears. “I might not know what I’m doing, but I...I still want to _try,_ Dad…”

"Oh, Charlotte," Lucifer said, smiling indulgently at her through a mouthful of dagger-sharp teeth. "Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte. I knew you were naive, but I didn't think you were _this_ fucking stupid."

"I - what?" Charlie stuttered, blinking at her father in startled bewilderment.

"For fuck's sake, child, you are the goddamn Antichrist!" Lucifer cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "And it's time you started acting like it. I have indulged these silly fantasies of yours time and time again, but enough is enough.”

Heart slamming against her ribcage, Charlie stumbled back a step as his form began to change, growing taller and broader. Curled horns began to sprout through his hair, which grew black and coarse, and his fingers curled into cloven hooves while his face elongated and his handsome features twisted into a beastly visage.

" **All those demons out there?"** He intoned in a deep growl. **"They are MINE. This is MY kingdom. And I will kill them myself before I let Heaven have a single one! Do you understand me?"**

"But why?" Charlie cried, shaking like a leaf but determined to stand her ground. "They're dying by the _millions_ every year, what does it matter if a few souls go to Heaven instead?"

**"ENOUGH!"** Lucifer bellowed, and just like that he was back to his normal, rosy-cheeked self, his smile firmly back in place. "This discussion is over. I will not let you undermine everything I'm trying to accomplish here. I had hoped you would abandon this little endeavor on your own, but it seems I’m going to have to step in. So, I am selling the Hotel."

" _What_!?" Charlie shrieked. "But - but you can't!"

"Of course I can, it's _my_ property after all," Lucifer pointed out cheerfully. "You were just borrowing it. If you want to do charity work, do it on your own dime."

"Fine then!" Charlie interjected angrily. "I'll buy the Hotel!"

"With what?" Lucifer asked sweetly, folding his hands behind his back with an amused smile. "Your allowance? That's still on my dime, then, isn't it?"

"But - but - "

"Now, I know you think I'm being unfair here, but really, it's for your own good," Lucifer assured her in his kindest, most saccharine voice. "You'll just make yourself miserable with all this foolishness."

"Dad, please, don't - !"

"I'll finalize everything in the morning, and tell your little friends to clear out," Lucifer continued as if she hadn't spoken. "In the meantime, I think it's best if you stay here for tonight and get some rest. After everything you’ve done, you deserve it!"

"No - wait!" 

"Sleep tight, cinnabun!" Lucifer sang, completely ignoring the plea. "I'm sure things will look better in the morning!" 

And he slammed the door in her face.

She heard the lock click, and his footsteps recede down the hallway, along with a jaunty whistling tune. Even knowing it was fruitless, Charlie rushed forward anyway, twisting the knob in desperation. The door wouldn't open. She slammed a fist against the wood, breath coming in short panicked gasps, before she raced across the room to try and yank open the double French doors that lead out onto her balcony. They wouldn’t budge. Finally, she grabbed a chair and tried to break through the glass of her window seat, but all she managed to do was break the chair instead and give herself a splinter. 

Tears already streaming down her face, Charlie sank to the floor and buried her face in her arms. She shouldn't be surprised. She should have known things would turn out this way, but she hadn't thought her own father would actually…

A wracking sob shook her frame, and she sank her fangs into her bottom lip, trying to push down the hard knot of pain clenching around her heart. Why did this always happen? What was she going to tell everyone? What could she do now?

Charlie lifted her head, scrubbing angrily at her cheeks, and struggled to take deep breaths. Crying never solved anything, she knew that, but she couldn't stop...

And then her eyes landed on the old radio next to her bedside.

...Alastor.

There was no way she could afford to buy the Hotel on her own, but… Alastor was one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell. Maybe he could…

…If she made a Deal with him. 

That's what it would come down to.

And if Alastor bought the Hotel, they wouldn't be on equal footing anymore. He'd have all the power. He could do whatever he wanted, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. If he ever got bored with her little redemption project…if he was no longer entertained…

On the other hand...

… Did she really have a choice?

Slowly, Charlie climbed to her feet, and padded across the room towards the radio. She'd heard all kinds of rumors about the Radio Demon. That if you managed to tune into the right station, he could hear _you_ just as easily as you could hear him. Did it actually work that way, though, or was it just smoke and mirrors?

Charlie reached for the dial with trembling fingers, and twisted it until all she could hear was static. 

"...A-Alastor?" she whispered, swallowing thickly. "Alastor, are you there?"

The static wavered, stuttering with feedback, and for a brief moment she thought she could hear voices in the background but they were too faint and distorted to make out clearly. And then the static evened out again, and after a minute or two she switched the radio off with a sigh. 

That's right. There were protective wards around her bedroom, meant to keep out any intruders. As strong as Alastor was, it seemed even his powers had limits.

Charlie collapsed onto her bed, face-down into her pillows, and let out a half-choked sob. In the next moment, something touched her hand, and she jerked upright with a gasp - only to find Razzle and Dazzle looking up at her with wide, worried eyes. At least their ability to teleport to her side hadn’t been hindered at all. 

“What’s wrong?” Razzle asked, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“Do we need to beat anybody up?” Dazzle wanted to know.

“O-oh…” Charlie said, hurriedly wiping the tears out of her eyes. “I’m - No, it’s okay, guys, I just…I’m fine, really.”

The two little goat-demons exchanged a skeptical look, before the both of them crawled into her lap and wrapped their arms around her waist. Charlie let out a watery laugh, wrapping them in a grateful hug, and buried her face into their fur. 

“Thanks, guys,” she said after a few minutes, once she felt more in control of herself. Dazzle let out a trilling pur, while Razzle licked her cheek. Charlie chuckled, gave them another squeeze, then sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. 

“So what happened?” Dazzle wanted to know, cocking his head up at her. 

“It’s Dad,” Charlie huffed out. “He wants to shut down the Hotel.”

“Why?” Razzle asked, frowning in confusion. 

“I don’t know!” Charlie cried, throwing her hands up. “It doesn’t make any sense! So many demons die every year, I didn’t think he’d care if a few went to Heaven instead. But apparently I was wrong.”

“Can we beat _him_ up…?” Dazzle asked uncertainly. 

“Wha - no!” Charlie said quickly, with a frantic shake of her head. She couldn’t even _imagine_ what might happen to them if they went after her father. Getting turned back into dolls would be the _best case_ scenario. “No attacking my dad.”

“Aww, alright,” Dazzle huffed, curling up in her lap with a yawn. 

“So, what _are_ we gonna do?” Razzle asked, shoving his twin over to make some room for himself. Charlie sighed, her head rolling back so she could stare up at her ceiling, thinking. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “There’s no way I can do this without the Hotel. Without a safe place to stay, how can any demon here ever hope to find the stable footing they need to straighten themselves out? I might not know much about rehabilitating people, but even _I_ can work that out. They need a place to stay. They need warm beds and good food and nice friends. They need a _h-home_.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she gathered the Goat Bois closer, burying her face in their soft fur with a shudder. 

Without the Hotel, Angel Dust would have no choice but to stay at that awful studio, since he clearly wasn't able to hold an apartment on his own. Sure, he'd been angry before, but she knew he secretly liked being able to get away from Valentino now and then. Alastor would probably disappear back to wherever he'd come from. Husk and Niffty, too, before she'd even gotten a chance to know them. And Vaggie…

Another sob shook her, and Charlie finally gave into the tears, while Dazzle petted her hair and Razzle tucked his head up beneath her chin. She didn't know how long she cried for, but eventually she lifted her head and wiped at her cheeks. She gave the Goat Bois a grateful squeeze, feeling a little better. 

"What can we do?" Dazzle asked quietly.

"I don't know…" Charlie admitted.

But...there had to be _something._

But what? What did people do when they had lost all hope? When they had nowhere else to turn? When they were up against a wall and needed help?

_They prayed._

Charlie blinked at the ridiculous idea that had drifted into her consciousness. Surely, that wasn't the only thing she could think of. Praying didn't even work. If you wanted something, you had to get it with your own two hands, not beg some imaginary man in the sky for it. Her father had told her that countless times.

_Your father lies._

…That was true.

Still. She was the Princess of Hell. The...the Antichrist. Would God even answer a demon's prayer…?

_Would it hurt to try?_

Well. No. And if she didn't try, she'd never know, would she?

Charlie hesitated, uncertain and nervous, before she slowly shifted the Goat Bois out of her lap, climbed off the bed, and knelt beside it. That was how these things were normally done, wasn't it? She clasped her hands together, palms sweating, and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart was suddenly thundering like a jackhammer. What was she supposed to say, exactly?

Razzle and Dazzle exchanged a mystified look, shrugged, and simply looked on with curious interest.

"Um," Charlie started, throat dry, voice barely above a whisper. What the Hell was she doing? She felt like an idiot. "Uh...Dear God, I guess. Hello. You don't know me, but my name is Charlotte Magne, and I'm… I'm the daughter of Lucifer. You know… The guy that tried to, uh…overthrow you and take over Heaven? Yeah. Um, a-anyway... I was wondering if, um, if maybe you could possibly help me? If you're not too busy, that is. You see, I'm trying to...start up this - this Hotel to help, you know, rehabilitate sinners down here, but… well, Dad isn't really making it very easy. He's going to sell the Hotel, and without that I don't know how I'll be able to help people get back on the right track. I don't even know what I'm doing, to be honest. Or if it'll even work if I did. But… but I want to at least try. There has to be a better way than mass genocide. And if there's any goodness in you, I know you'll agree. And...I know you send your angels to carry out the Cleanses every year, but maybe… Maybe you could send one to help rehabilitate demons instead? Just one. That's all I ask. Just… help me. Please, please help me…"

Charlie stuttered to a halt, feeling like she'd babbled on long enough, held her breath, and waited. 

Razzle and Dazzle both glanced up at the ceiling, holding themselves very still. 

After several long seconds...nothing happened.

She wasn't sure what she had expected. Feeling stupid and strangely disappointed, Charlie slowly climbed back into bed, and buried her face in her pillow. Dazzle patted her shoulder sympathetically, while Razzle ran a comforting hoof down her back. 

And that's when a great _crack_ tore the red sky apart and shook Hell right down to it's foundation.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Please leave a comment or kudos if you got this far, I'm always happy to hear from you guys!


	2. Meet Sandalphon

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO II Oo.**

**Meet Sandalphon**

* * *

Explosions were commonplace in Hell. So common that they almost faded into the background, and most demons (if they weren’t caught up in the blast), simply went about their business as if nothing had happened. This time of year, so soon after the Cleanse, territorial battles were especially fierce and not a day had gone by without the concussive cacophony of something blowing up somewhere. 

This was not an explosion.

This was a _supernova_.

Charlie shrieked and shot straight up out of bed as what sounded like an atomic bomb went off right outside her room, shaking reality right down to the core, shuddering through the universe in a thousand aftershocks, and shattering the windows in every building within ten square miles (though, miraculously, no one was hurt).

Outside, demons started screaming.

Charlie scrambled out of bed, Razzle and Dazzle hot on her heels, and rushed to the window seat to see what was going on. Down below, demons were bolting for cover, trampling over one another in their haste to get inside and off the streets. Looking up, Charlie could see why. An enormous crack had split the sky wide open, branching out like frozen lightning, like broken glass, fracturing right across the red pentagram that loomed over the city. White-gold beams of light pierced through the gloom like an arrow through the heart, scattering demons like cockroaches, almost too bright to look at, and yet Charlie couldn't tear her eyes away. An indefinable feeling welled up in her chest at the sight of it, and tears pricked at her eyes, but she had no idea why.

And within the largest, brightest ray of light hovered the reason for everyone's panic.

It was an _angel_.

For a moment, reflexive knots of anxiety twisted up her insides, triggered by countless memories of gray wings and glinting steel and the screaming terror of complete and total annihilation, year after year after year reaching as far back as she could remember. The piles of bodies in the streets, the rivers of gore draining down into the sewers, the people she would never see again... 

_There was an angel in Hell._

There was an angel in Hell, and _she had let it in._ What had she done? _What had she done?_

Only…Charlie couldn't help but note that this angel...looked different. Not like the Exterminators she was used to seeing every year though the news feed. There were no horns, no creepy LED mask, no robotic rictus smile. 

It...looked like a girl. Or possibly a very pretty boy. With snow-white hair, a golden halo over her head, and not one pair of white wings but three. She hovered for a moment, watching as the cracks in the sky slowly sealed themselves closed, before glancing around as if trying to get her bearings - and then she turned and looked straight at Charlie. 

Charlie yelped, stumbled backwards, tripped over Dazzle, and toppled to the floor.

A moment later, there was a knock upon the balcony door. 

Charlie looked up with wide, panicked eyes to see the angel standing on the other side and two things registered in her reeling brain. One, the angel had just moved across a hundred yards in less than an instant, and two, her balcony door was French. That is, it was comprised of a lot of glass panels set within a wooden frame. All of those glass panels were now completely shattered. And that meant the protective ward on her bedroom was... _broken_. 

Razzle and Dazzle both let out protective snarls and immediately shifted into their demonic forms. Suddenly, the two were the size of ponies, crouched down on all fours, their soft fur now coarse and rough. Their horns had elongated, curling across their backs and ending in a wicked point. Their dragon wings flared and a line of spikes ran down their spines, to the spearhead tips of their long serpentine tails. They flanked Charlie on both sides, and even though they didn’t have a chance in Hell against an angel, they were ready to die if it meant they could keep their girl safe.

The angel blinked at them. Then she smiled, and offered a friendly wave. 

Bemused, Charlie waved back. 

"Hello, Charlotte," the angel said cheerfully. Then she grimaced a bit, and gestured apologetically at all the broken glass. "Sorry about your door. And your window. And, you know, all the other windows in your house."

"Uh...s'okay," Charlie said blankly, just staring at her. "How...how do you know my name?"

"Ah - Heaven keeps extensive records of all souls currently in Hell," the angel explained. "Particularly of its rulers." She smiled, warm and reassuring. "And God knows you very well."

"...Right," Charlie said, not quite knowing how to take that information.

"Right," the angel nodded. Paused. Rocked on her heels and swung her arms a bit. "So...Introductions! I'm Sandalphon, but you can just call me Sandy if you like."

"Um...Charlie," Charlie said.

"Do you think...maybe you could open the door?" Sandalphon asked hopefully. "I mean, you don't have to if it makes you feel safer, but... Well, it does feel a bit silly, talking like this."

"...Okay," Charlie said, and though she felt distinctly light-headed, she climbed to her feet and stepped closer. 

“Careful, Charlie,” Dazzle warned in a deep growl. 

“It’s...it’s okay,” Charlie said, reflexively, and hoped it was true. After all, if the angel really wanted to hurt her, she very much doubted her busted French doors would be much of an obstacle. With that encouraging thought, Charlie reached out and undid the lock. Still, she hesitated one last time, searching Sandalphon's patient gaze for even a hint of hostility, any sign this might be a trick. The angel merely cocked her head and smiled. Not a smirk, or a sneer, or a toothy grin. A real smile. 

Charlie took a breath, and opened the door. 

"Sorry for the scare," the angel said, her eyes bright and friendly. Her voice was light and lyrical, with a smooth accent that sounded vaguely European but might have come from any number of places. "Breaking through the Firmament turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought."

"The…The Firmament?" Charlie said in bewildered confusion.

"The barrier between Earth, Heaven and Hell," the angel explained breezily. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm here to answer your prayer."

"You...you are?" Charlie stammered, staring at the angel in complete shock. "I mean - I guess I was hoping someone might show up, but I didn't really think anybody actually _would…_ "

"May I come in?" Sandalphon asked politely.

"I...uh...s-sure," Charlie stuttered, stepping back so Sandalphon could come into her room. As she did, the second and third set of wings seemed to just...fall apart, scattering feathers that all disintegrated within moments, while the remaining pair of wings settled neatly against her back. They weren't entirely white either, Charlie noticed, but tipped black on the very ends, like a seagull's. 

Apart from the wings, though, Sandalphon looked…fairly normal. She was about Charlie’s height, maybe an inch or two shorter, with fair skin and a pretty face. Her figure was just waifish enough to toe the line of androgeny, with a flat chest and the barest hint of a curve at her waist. If it weren't for her hair - woven into a pair of thick shoulder-length white braids - Charlie might have mistook her for a boy. 

It was her eyes, though, that really caught Charlie's attention. For one thing, there was no discoloration of the sclera, no slit pupil, no distortions at all. They were perfectly normal. That was the thing. With demons, no matter how well they might disguise their horns or fangs or extra limbs, no matter how human they might look, you could always see their true nature in their eyes. But Sandalphon's were just the clearest, bluest eyes Charlie had ever seen, like what she imagined an endless summer sky might look like in the living world. 

The angel wore a black-velvet bolero jacket, with long sleeves that brushed her knuckles, embroidered with gold trim along the hem, and fastened over her sternum with a white ribbon and a golden trinity pendant. Golden bracers were clasped around her wrists over her sleeves, filigreed with circular, geometrical designs. 

Beneath the jacket was a high-collared royal blue dress, with an open back to accommodate her wings. It was slit up the sides, the hem cut shorter in the front while swooping longer in the back, with more gold embroidery along the edge. Cinched around her slender waist was a black sash, tied in a bow at her back, over a white corset with a double-row of small gold buttons. Under the dress, she wore white leggings and knee-length black boots, with three golden buttons marching down the front.

Her halo was very different from the ones Charlie was used to seeing, as well. Those were a glaring white, with a sharp spear-like cross in the front, and three spikes on either side. Sandalphon’s halo was a warm gold, woven like delicate vines into something like a Celtic tiara, and cocked jauntily to the side where it hovered a few inches over her head. A six-petaled white rose, with a smaller five-point gold star in the center of it, was inlaid in the front of the circlet, with three small white pearls on either side of it. Strangely, it appeared the pearls were able to slide around the circumference of the halo, moving like orbiting satellites in a seemingly random pattern.

"It's nice to meet you, Charlie," Sandalphon said, holding out her hand to shake. Razzle and Dazzle immediately let out warning snarls, stepping forward protectively. 

“It’s okay, guys,” Charlie said quickly, running her hands down their backs in a soothing gesture. “I...I don’t think she means any harm. And...it's nice to meet you, too...Sandy."

She smiled hesitantly, taking the angel's hand, and Sandy beamed back at her. 

“Razzle and Dazzle, yeah?” the angel asked, regarding the Goat Bois with keen interest. “Oh, you two are just _gorgeous_.”

The two demons blinked, bemused, and then preened in spite of themselves. 

“We like her,” they said in unison.

"That was fast,” Charlie deadpanned, shaking her head at them in amusement. "Okay. So, you're…you're an angel."

"Technically, I'm an Archangel, but yes," Sandy nodded.

"What's the difference?" Charlie asked curiously.

"Rank, mostly," Sandy shrugged, grinning as Razzle slunk cautiously forward and started sniffing at her boots. She held out her hand for him to smell, and when he seemed to decide she wasn’t a threat, she slipped her fingers along his jawline and began scratching. He froze for a moment, eyes going wide, before they all but rolled back into his head and he melted on the spot with a visible shudder. 

After a moment, Dazzle was starting to look a bit jealous at all the attention his brother was getting, so Charlie reached out and ran her hand soothingly down his back. He arched into her with a happy purr, then stood leaning heavily against her side while she rubbed his ears. 

“But that’s not really important right now,” Sandy continued, looking quite delighted at their antics. “I came to offer my services to the Hotel, as a therapist and counselor. I have a lot of experience in behavioral psychotherapy and healing, and I think with the right kind of guidance, this rehabilitation idea of yours could really work.”

“Wait," Charlie said, her brain refusing to believe what her ears were telling it. "Do you mean...you think it’s actually...possible to rehabilitate a demon? That they could...really go to Heaven?"

The smile Sandy gave her was dazzling.

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, with absolute conviction. 

"Y-you really mean it?" Charlie said breathlessly, nearly vibrating on the spot, she was trembling so hard. Her heart was thudding so hard, she felt like it might explode any second. "Everybody - they all think I'm crazy. Even Vaggie - she’s so supportive, but even she doesn’t think it’ll work. _Nobody_ does. But you...you really think they can be saved?"

"Yes, I do," Sandy nodded.

"Oh…” Charlie almost sobbed, feeling her eyes start to burn with tears, and before she could stop to think she lunged forward and threw her arms around Sandy's neck. The angel rocked back a step from the impact, before gently wrapping her arms around Charlie with a soft chuckle. A moment later, Charlie abruptly realized just what the Hell she was doing, and hastily pulled away. What was she thinking, hugging an angel?!

But Sandy simply gave her a kind smile, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and offered it with a quirked brow. Charlie took it with a shaky laugh, and wiped her eyes, staring at the angel with a sort of incredulous disbelief. 

“...Why?” she asked. “I mean...why do you want to help us? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it, you have no idea! But we’re…we’re demons. I’m _literally_ the daughter of the Devil. I thought...”

“You thought Heaven hated you,” Sandy said quietly, and there was a sad understanding in her eyes, ears drooping just a little. “Yeah...I can see how you might have gotten that idea. But, listen...I'm not an Exterminator. I certainly don’t agree with how things are being done right now, and I'm not the only one. And the souls here...they might look demonic, but they’re still people. People who just...got lost in the dark. I don’t hate them for that, and I won’t turn my back on them if there's something I can do to help. I believe there’s a better way, just as you do, and if there is then I'm going to do everything I can to make it happen. Does that answer your question?"

“I...yeah,” Charlie said, staring at the angel a little incredulously. Having grown up in Hell her entire life, it was hard to believe someone like her actually existed. She’d always tried to see the good everyone, but this...this was on another level. “But...Dad said he’s selling the Hotel.” Her shoulders slumped a bit in defeat. “How are we supposed to…?”

“Yeah, that’s the first thing we need to take care of,” Sandy nodded decisively. “We need to get back there as soon we can. May I borrow this?”

She moved towards the bed, and held up Charlie’s red satin top sheet with a questioning look.

“Uh...I guess?” Charlie said in confusion. 

“Thanks,” Sandy said, wrapping the sheet around herself like a cloak, hiding her snowy wings beneath. Her halo, which had been hovering a few inches above her head, settled itself into her hair like a crown, spinning sideways so the flower in the front rested just over her right temple. “I don't want people panicking any more than they already are, so I’d like to keep a low profile for now. I’m hoping you can give me a ride?”

She cast a meaningful look at the Goat Bois, and Charlie couldn’t help but grin. 

“Yes, or course!” she nodded. Razzle shrunk down to his normal size and crawled into Charlie’s arms, while Dazzle remained in his full demon form and let both girls clamber up onto his broad back. Charlie gripped his horns tightly, while Sandy wrapped her arms around the Princess’ waist. Dazzle picked his way out onto the balcony, his hooves crunching over the shattered glass, before his wings snapped out and he leapt into the night.

“I would think you’d be used to flying,” Charlie commented, hearing the angel’s breathless laughter behind her. 

“Yes, but it’s not everyday I get to ride a giant goat dragon,” Sandy replied. “It’s a very different experience!”

Charlie grinned, exchanging a mischievous look with Dazzle, before she nudged him to go faster. He did one better, twisting into several loop-the-loops that had Sandy gripping Charlie for dear life and giggling like a maniac. Her delight was contagious, and soon Charlie found herself laughing just as hard. Before she knew it, they were circling lower through the smoggy air - dodging past a few demons that had the guts to try and snap at them - and alighting before the Hotel’s front doors, long since repaired after Sir Pentious' attack. Charlie noticed most of the windows were pretty broken, but as the majority had already been boarded up to start with, the damage wasn't too bad.

“Thanks for the ride,” Sandy said as she slid to the ground, and reached out to pat Dazzle’s side. He turned and butted his head against her chest, before transforming back into his normal form, and landing in her arms with a toothy - and somewhat hopeful - grin. She chuckled, and snuggled him close, scratching a hard to reach spot just behind his ear. He melted into her with a shudder, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a look of sheer bliss. 

“Okay, seriously, what did you do to them?” Charlie asked, putting one hand on her hip and cocking a brow at Dazzle, who shot her a somewhat guilty look. “These two have never taken a liking to someone so quickly before. Do I need to be worried?”

“Nah, it's just an angel thing. But I’m not gonna steal them, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sandy grinned, rolling her eyes in clear amusement. “Though if I did, could you really blame me? They’re the cutest fucking things I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie’s mouth dropped open, and Sandy gave her a somewhat confused look.

“What?”

“You...you just…” Charlie stammered. “I thought angels didn’t curse…?”

“Why not?” Sandy asked. “They’re just words. Not like it’s a sin or anything.”

“I - but - you - “ Charlie spluttered, and Sandy laughed.

"Charlie!" she said, in a falsely scolding tone. "Surely you don't think people go to Hell just for saying a few bad words."

"Heh, well...that's what the Catholics seem to think," Charlie said, with a somewhat sheepish grin.

"That's because they think everything's a sin," Sandy huffed, rolling her eyes as she followed Charlie through the Hotel’s front doors. 

"Hey, I'm back!" Charlie called into the darkened foyer. "I brought a friend! Hello? Anybody home?"

Something crashed upstairs, like somebody throwing open a door, and then a streak of silver shot down the stairs and tackled Charlie to the floor.

“ _Where the Hell have you been_ ?!” Vaggie shrieked, grabbing Charlie by the shoulders and giving her a good shake before practically crushing her in a rib-cracking bear hug. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?! You can’t just up and disappear like that out of fucking nowhere! It's been _hours_!”

“Hey, hey, I’m okay,” Charlie soothed, running her hands through Vaggie’s grey hair and down her shoulders. “It’s alright, Vaggie, deep breaths. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“What happened?” Vaggie demanded, getting to her feet and helping Charlie up off the ground. "Alastor said you just vanished! I was looking everywhere, and then the _sky_ just - !"

“Charlie!” Alastor said loudly, materializing right between the two girls and shoving Vaggie bodily to the side. Her expression turned livid, her good eye burning a murderous hole into the back of Alastor's head - not that he paid her any mind. “There you are! I must say, dear Vagatha was rather beside herself when I told her you were gone. It was quite the show!" He leered at Vaggie over his shoulder, and Charlie could practically hear the girl's blood pressure spike. 

"I told you not to call me that, shitlord!" Vaggie seethed, trying to move around him back to Charlie, but he tripped her up with his microphone stand and then pretended he'd done no such thing when she whirled on him. "Will you fucking STOP THAT - !"

"Uuuggghh, keep it down, would ya?" Husk grouched from the bar, sitting up from where he'd been slumped over the counter-top and scrubbing tiredly at his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and his fur was sticking up in places. "Some of us are tryin' to sleep here…"

"Okay, first off, _pussycat_ , you shouldn't be sleeping at all since you're supposed to be manning the bar," Vaggie snapped at him, having had just about all she was going to take. "And second, if you are gonna insist on being totally useless, then at least go do it in your own room."

"Okay, first off, _bitchtits_ , it's deader than a fuckin' graveyard in here so there ain't no fuckin' point," Husk sneered at her. "And second, if you're gonna insist on being a total fuckin' cun - "

"And who’s this?”

A hand fell on Sandy’s shoulder, and she glanced back to find the blood-red demon was now standing behind her, smiling with every one of his razor teeth and his hooded eyes glowing like Hellfire embers.

A dark shadow loomed up behind him, a jagged grin splitting its face in half, and cocked its head curiously at her.

“Hello,” Sandy said mildly, smiling disarmingly up at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sandalphon, but everybody just calls me Sandy for short.”

Alastor went from menacing to delighted in two seconds flat. 

"Why, the pleasure's all mine, my dear!" he said, grasping her hand in both of his and pumping her arm up and down like a water-spout. "The name's Alastor! So, what brings you to this fine establishment?"

"Oooh, are you a new patient!?" Niffty cried, zipping right up to Sandy with a manic smile. "Hi, I'm Niffty! I hope you're better than the last one, she never even kept her room clean!"

"Angel's a guy, Niffty…" Charlie said, with the tone of someone who'd been repeating the same thing for a while. "And Sandy isn't a new patient, she wants to help with the Hotel!"

"Oh? Splendid!" Alastor said, and immediately stuck his microphone in Sandy's face, as if conducting an interview. It sprang to life, opening a single red eye, and looked her up and down critically.

"And what can you do, sweetheart?" the microphone wanted to know.

"Well," Sandy said, tapping her chin and adopting a thoughtful look, which seemed to amuse Alastor to no end. "I know all the words to Over the Rainbow. I can play the kazoo. I make a mean cup of chamomile tea. I'm pretty much an angel, to be honest."

“Quite a feat, given you're in Hell," Alastor smirked, giving her a few condescending pats on the head, his hooded eyes gleaming. "And quite a list of accomplishments, too! I'm sure we can find a place for you, my dear!"

“No, but seriously,” Sandy said, her smile growing in anticipation. “I’m an angel.”

And she dropped her makeshift cloak on the floor, wings extending from her shoulders, and her halo rising up a few inches above her head, spinning slowly until the central flower was pointed directly at Alastor.

There was a moment of absolute, stunned silence. 

“Penny in the air…” Sandy murmured quietly, waiting. 

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Husk bellowed, rearing backwards on the stool he was seated on and crashing noisily to the floor. There was a sound like shattering glass, and he came up a moment later, peeking over the counter with flattened ears and a broken bottle clutched in his claws.

“Ha! Nope!” Niffty announced cheerfully, before she vaulted over the bar and tucked herself under Husk's wing, her smile completely manic and her single eye fixed unblinkingly on Sandy. 

“Fuck!” Vaggie shouted, yanking Charlie behind her in one move and summoning her spear in the other, the deadly silver tip trained on Sandy’s throat. “FUCK! Charlie, you _brought a fucking angel here_?!”

“...Penny drops,” Sandy finished with a smile. 

While everyone was freaking out, Alastor simply stood with his hands folded neatly upon the head of his microphone, his ever-present smile suddenly ten times sharper, and his gaze zeroed in on the angel in their midst with laser-beam intensity. The air suddenly felt charged, as if right before a lightning storm, and the soft hiss of radio static buzzed in Sandy's ears. 

“Well, well,” Alastor intoned quietly, tilting his head to the side as he regarded her. “Aren’t you interesting.”

“Guys, it’s alright, Sandy didn’t come to hurt anyone,” Charlie said hurriedly, reaching out to lay a hand on Vaggie’s weapon, but the girl refused to lower it. 

“ _Dios mio, have you lost your fucking mind_ ?” Vaggie demanded roughly, teeth bared in a wild snarl. “Charlie, you know what these things are capable of! Shit - I’ve seen one angel wipe out _dozens_ of demons in _less than a minute_ ! They’re fucking monsters! And you thought it would be a good idea to _bring one home with you_?! Qué estabas pensando?”

“No, Vaggie, she’s not like that,” Charlie tried explaining. “She said she wants to help - ”

“And you know that, how?” Vaggie hissed. “You’ve known her for how long, exactly?"

“Well, um...about half an hour...But!” Charlie quickly held up a finger when Vaggie opened her mouth to keep yelling. “If she wanted to hurt anyone, don’t you think she would have done it by now? If she’s even half as powerful as the angels we’ve seen before, she could have easily killed us all by now!”

"That's true," Sandy added helpfully, careful to keep her hands in plain sight.

“Yeah, not exactly making me feel any better here!” Vaggie said, more than a little hysterically. “Jesus, the fucking _Radio Demon_ is bad enough! Now we’ve gotta deal with a goddamn _Exterminator_?!”

“I am not an Exterminator,” Sandy interjected firmly, looking as if the very idea was appalling. “And Charlie’s right - I came to help."

"Why?" Vaggie demanded, her good eye narrowed with suspicion, fists tight on the shaft of her spear. "Where the fuck did you even come from? The Cleanse is over! Or didn't you get the memo?"

"I came from Heaven, of course," Sandy replied primly. "And I'm here because Charlie prayed for help."

Vaggie blinked. Then turned to look at Charlie.

"You what?" she said blankly. 

Charlie huffed out a heavy breath, and nodded. 

"Dad summoned me," she explained quietly. "That's why I vanished so suddenly. He's...he wants to…" Her face screwed up, but she refused to cry again. "He's threatening to sell the Hotel."

Alastor's ears perked up.

" _What_?!" Vaggie cried, her jaw dropping. "Why?!"

"I...I don't know," Charlie admitted, rubbing her arm, eyes falling to the floor. "I mean...he hasn't been very supportive of, well, _anything_ I've done lately, but...he's never tried to just shut me down, either…"

"Bastard," Vaggie hissed vehemently, shaking her head, before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a frustrated whoosh. "Damn. I'm sorry, babe…"

"Well, you know… Lucifer does have an incentive to keep souls in Hell," Sandy interjected nonchalantly. "Maybe he thought the Hotel could actually work. That would explain why he suddenly decided to get rid of it, before it gained traction."

"You...you think so?" Charlie asked, lifting her head.

"Or he's challenging you," Sandy continued, and there was a sly look in her eye. "Maybe to see how much you really want this. How far you're willing to go."

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, before something hardened in her eyes, and she nodded firmly. 

"As far as it takes," she said. But then her determination faltered, crumbling once more into doubt. "But...but I can't buy the Hotel…"

"No," Sandy agreed. "But someone can."

And she turned to smile at Alastor.

And Alastor smiled back with every single one of his teeth.

"So," Sandy said. "Alastor. How would you like to make a Deal?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so there's chapter two. Lemme know what you guys think of Sandy, I'd love to hear your feedback.
> 
> Also, I think I'm probably gonna talk a lot about God and such in later chapters, but I just wanted to make it clear now that my version isn't really anything like what you see in the Bible or the Church or pop-culture. I actually reject a lot of those ideas, other than the core beliefs of be kind and what not. Honestly, this story is kind of my own musings on what I believe the nature of God and the Universe to be, so expect all that fun stuff to be explored.


	3. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 9/7/2020. Added a bit of dialogue between Alastor and Sandy. Fixed some errors.
> 
> Holy crap this chapter gave me so much trouble, but here it is finally. Hope you guys enjoy!

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO III Oo.**

**The Proposal**

* * *

As Alastor's smile grew, the room seemed to darken, the shadows filling up with a thousand hungry nightmares. Their eager whispers filtered through the static of his radio feed, echoing and distorted. His hooded eyes glinted like knives in the gloom as he slowly looked the angel up and down, hands linked behind his back to keep himself from snatching the little fool up right then and there. Meanwhile, his shadow loomed up behind Sandalphon, a jagged smile ripping open its face, black claws closing upon her shoulders in a deceptively gentle grip. 

"Wait - what?" Charlie said sharply, her head snapping around to stare at Sandy in wide-eyed horror. "No! No, no, no. That’s - I can’t - Losing this place is bad enough, but putting it in Alastor’s hands is just as bad! Uh...no offense, Al.”

“Some taken!” Alastor replied cheerfully. 

"Yeah, fuck that," Vaggie said flatly, glaring at the angel with her arms crossed and hips cocked. "There is  _ no way in Hell _ we’re selling the Hotel to  _ him _ ."

"Fortunately for me, sweetheart, that's not up  _ you _ , now is it?" Alastor smirked. 

Vaggie shot him a nasty look, but he merely fluttered his lashes at her with a mocking little smile. 

"Can  _ you  _ afford to buy this place?" Sandy asked, turning to give the silver-haired girl a knowing look. 

"... _ No _ ," Vaggie admitted through clenched teeth, scowling in grudging frustration. 

"Yeah, neither can I,” Sandy shrugged. “I haven’t got any money, and even if I did Lucifer wouldn’t accept it since I’m not actually a citizen. However, Alastor  _ does _ have the funds, and has already shown a vested interest in the Hotel."

"How the hell do you know that?" Vaggie demanded. “You’ve been here, what, five minutes?”

"Heaven keeps a close eye on the goings on down here," Sandy informed her, and nodded towards Alastor with a playful wink. "Especially when it comes to Hell's major players."

"Oh?" Alastor said, perking up with interest. "How fascinating!"

"More like creepy…" Husk muttered, shooting an uneasy look at the ceiling.

"In any case," Sandy continued, blithely ignoring that comment. "I’m afraid cutting a Deal is the best option we have at the moment.”

“And what, pray tell, would this Deal entail, my dear?” Alastor asked, watching the angel like a wolf might eye a rabbit. 

"You buy the Hotel from Lucifer, then sign the deed over to Charlie in full," Sandy replied. "Once that's taken care of, I'd like to volunteer my services here as the resident therapist and healer."

Alastor blinked and cocked his head at her with a bemused grin. She knew who he was, and she still wanted to make a Deal with him? And all she was asking for in return was to help a bunch of loathsome sinners?

And he’d thought the  _ Princess _ was crazy.

This? This was absolute madness. 

He slid his hand down her arm, took her hand, and spun her into a twirl. She went easily, willingly, turning so gracefully on her toes he wondered if she might be a dancer.

"And...in return for this favor...what will you give me?" he asked, pulling her snugly into his side and grinning down at her like the Cheshire Cat that caught the canary. 

The angel just settled against him like she belonged there, gazing up at him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, reminding him for a moment of warm lazy days lying beneath an endless summer sky.

“My soul, of course,” she said, casually as you please, as if she signed her life away all the time. “I think that should about cover things, don’t you?”

Alastor barked out an incredulous laugh as he considered the mad creature - a pretty thing, even he could see that, but utterly, completely, absolutely out of her sweet little head.

What a wonderful plaything she was!

And an angel, to boot. This close to her, he could feel the quiet strength of her aura, gently radiating from her like an ocean breeze. He suspected that breeze could quickly transform into a hurricane, given the right circumstances. If she was even half as powerful as the Exterminators…then as dear old Husker would say, he had just hit the jackpot - or rather, the jackpot was quite literally throwing itself into his lap. 

With an angel at his side, he'd be...unstoppable.

At that, his rictus grin grew positively  _ ravenous _ , and he reached for Sandy with blood-red claws -

“No!” Charlie cried - he'd almost forgotten she was there - and Sandy was jerked out of his grasp, to the harsh screech of radio feedback. Alastor’s eyes flashed for a moment, linge,ring on the hand wrapped around the angel's upper arm, and his smile turned sharp and dangerous. 

“Sandy -  _ don’t  _ do this,” Charlie said urgently, nervous eyes darting back and forth between the two. “Please, there has to be some other way - !”

"Such as?" Sandy prompted, lifting a brow. 

Charlie hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides, a fine tremor running through her frame when her gaze cut back to Alastor for a moment.

For the most part, he'd been a perfect gentleman over the past few weeks. Eager to assist with whatever scheme she came up with to help the Hotel's residents, and laughing uproariously when those schemes backfired spectacularly in her face. He'd been perfectly willing to speak with his colleagues regarding financial backing, though he hadn't found any willing sponsors just yet. He was friendly and charming and for the most part delightful company.

Sometimes, she almost forgot how dangerous he was. 

But Charlie was painfully aware of it now. She'd heard the stories, knew he was a mass-murdering cannibal. She'd even forced herself to sit down and listen to one of Alastor's old broadcasts, though she hadn't been able to stomach more than a few minutes of it before hastily shutting it off. 

The sound of  _ screaming-begging-ripping-crunching- _ **_chewing_ ** had followed her into her dreams that night. 

And now Alastor was looking hungrier than she'd ever seen him, and Sandy was offering herself up on a silver platter like a sacrificial lamb. 

For a bunch of demons she'd never even  _ met _ .

Charlie swallowed thickly, then straightened her spine with a determined look in her golden eyes.

“Let me make the Deal instead,” she said, shivering at the dark smile that curled Alastor's lip.

“Charlie!” Vaggie said sharply, her eye going wide in alarm. “ _ Don’t _ \- !”

“This was  _ my _ idea!” Charlie cried, cutting her off. “The Hotel’s  _ my  _ responsibility. If a Deal is the only way to save it, then  _ I  _ should be the one to make it. I said I’d go as far as it took, and I’m not going back on my word now.”

“Which is admirable, but I’m afraid that won’t work,” Sandy said. 

"Why  _ not _ ?” Charlie demanded. 

“What do you think Lucifer will do, when he finds out?” Sandy asked, making Charlie blink in surprise. “Yeah, he might be the literal Devil, but you’re still his kid. He won’t believe Alastor’s buying the Hotel out of the goodness of his heart. Once he knows you made a Deal to save this place, he’ll just let someone else buy it and void whatever agreement you made."

"Then we just won't tell him until afterwards," Charlie argued stubbornly.

"Then he'll just kill Alastor and break your contract that way," Sandy retorted, making Charlie jerk back as if struck.

The static in their ears cracked with feedback, and Alastor's smile stretched to its breaking point.

"N-no, he...he wouldn't…" Charlie shook her head in denial, but deep down...she knew the truth of those words. It wouldn't be the first time someone around her had disappeared.

"He would," Sandy said, the words blunt, but her voice gentle. "I've been dealing with your father and his associates for a long time now. I know how he works. And he'd never let you sell yourself."

“But - but it’s okay to let you?!” Charlie cried, flailing her arms in frustration. 

"Charlie," Sandy said firmly, and Charlie quieted. "This will work."

Charlie bit her lip, clearly wanting to keep arguing, desperately trying to think of some other way and coming up terribly empty. Guilt twisted in her gut. It was  _ her _ fault Sandy was here. If she hadn’t prayed for help, if she hadn’t been so  _ weak _ , the angel never would have come to Hell in the first place -

"Hey," Sandy said, and laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder, making her jump and look up in surprise. Vaggie stiffened, watching Sandy like a hawk, but otherwise didn't move. 

"It's alright. I knew what I was getting into when I answered your call. It was my choice. And believe me…" Sandy chuckled. "If I couldn't handle myself, there are seven very over-protective Archangels back in Heaven who wouldn't have let me come.  _ Trust _ me, okay? I know what I'm doing."

Charlie stared at Sandy for a long moment, faintly shaking her head in disbelief. 

"...Why are you going so far?” she asked weakly. “You don’t even  _ know _ us…”

Something flickered in Sandy’s eyes, like the shadow of a bird flitting across a sunlit window, there and then gone in a flash. 

"Well...why not?" she said jauntily, and even though the corner of her mouth ticked up into a lop-sided grin, Charlie couldn’t help but think there was something sad lingering just behind her gaze. 

Then a pair of red-clad arms wrapped around Sandy’s shoulders from behind, pulling her against a lean chest, and Alastor pressed his cheek against her temple with a pleased smile.

"Why not, indeed?" he purred in her ear. "Now that's all sorted out, I think I'd like a word in private, if you don't mind?"

And with that, the shadows crawling along the edges of the room suddenly surged forward, crashing upon the two like a black tidal wave. The lights guttered and died, plunging the room into darkness, before slowly flickering back to life a moment later.

But Alastor and Sandalphon were gone.

**.oOo.**

Sandy looked around the black void with mild interest, unperturbed. Her halo provided a bit of soft golden light, but it just served to make the darkness deeper. Shadowy  _ things _ moved within it, just barely visible in the gloom, circling her like a pack of wolves. Every now and then, something would brush against her leg or hiss menacingly in her ear. It appeared she was alone, but she knew Alastor was hiding somewhere nearby, waiting to see how she would react. 

Well, it wouldn’t do to disappoint him.

"Oh no!" she gasped dramatically, clapping both hands to her cheeks. "Alone! In the dark! Whatever will I do?"

She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon.

A low chuckle echoed from seemingly everywhere.

"Oh, but sweetheart," the radio voice crooned. "It's not that folks are afraid of being alone in the dark. They're afraid of  _ not _ being alone in the dark."

At that, a pair of glaring white eyes appeared in the gloom. Followed by another. And another. Until Sandy found herself surrounded by dozens of eyes, the air filled with a low chittering and the soft tapping of claws.

"Are these your minions?" Sandy asked, smiling down at the closest one, and knelt to offer it her hand to sniff. "They're just  _ adorable _ ."

The little shadow creature blinked up at her for a moment, clearly not expecting this sort of reaction. It hissed at her, but when she didn't budge, it cautiously stretched forward to snuff at her fingers...and then it clambered onto her palm. 

Sandy stood, gently petting the creature between its horns, and giggling when it butted against her hand.

"People are afraid of things that might hurt them," she said, glancing back over her shoulder, where Alastor stood with narrowed eyes glowing dimly in the dark, and an intrigued smile stretching ear to ear. "And that's not what you're interested in right now. You're just testing me."

"Are you  _ quite  _ sure you know who I am, darling?" Alastor smirked, microphone spinning in his hand as he approached. Something pressed against her back, in between her wings, and the Shadow rested its chin on her shoulder, black arms wrapping around her waist.

"Because if you did, you would know…"

He ran his fingers down one of her braids, and gently tugged on the end to draw her closer, voice thick with static as he leaned down to brush his nose delicately against her temple. 

"I'm  _ very  _ interested in hurting people."

"Yes, I know," Sandy said, relaxing into the Shadow's hold, to its somewhat surprised confusion. Most people tended to start kicking and screaming about now. The fact that she didn’t was...strangely disconcerting. "You're the Radio Demon," she added, without a trace of fear, which made her either very brave or very stupid. 

Then she cocked a brow up at him, and said something that knocked the air out of his lungs.

“And you’re the Bayou Butcher.”

Alastor straightened and gave her an appraising look, his eyes sharp and intent. 

“Between the year of 1927 and your death in 1933, you managed to kill a total of 142 people,” Sandy said, steady and unflinching as she met his hooded gaze. “You were quite the national sensation for a while there. In all the newspapers. Historians still obsess about you sometimes, come to think of it.”

“Good to know I left an impression,” Alastor smirked, fists tightening ever so slightly around the stand of his microphone.

“New Orleans’ very own Jack the Ripper, they called you,” Sandy continued. “Mostly because they never were able to figure out who you really were, in the end. The only reason I know is because Heaven keeps very meticulous records. Do you know what I find so interesting about you?"

“Enlighten me,” Alastor murmured, inclining his head towards her politely.

“Of the people you killed, almost all of them had committed, or been accused of, some sort of crime,” Sandy said. “Some were sex offenders. Others were corrupt politicians. Or were part of the KKK. Most, however, were high profile mobsters which is...actually kind of impressive considering you were working entirely alone.”

“Oh? Am I to understand I have a fan, sweetheart?” Alastor grinned.

“As an angel, I’m afraid I can’t condone your methods,” Sandy shook her head. “I don’t believe anyone has the right to judge whether or not someone else deserves to die, no matter what they've done. You never know where they're coming from, after all. Or where they might go."

Alastor sneered at that, but accepted it without comment.

"That being said…" Sandy went on with a crooked little smile. “I’m not a mobster. Or a racist. Or a sex offender.”

“Oh? Well, congratulations!” Alastor said, applause crackling over the radio waves. “Well done on not being a complete waste of flesh!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Sandy chuckled, taking a joking bow with far too much flair than was entirely appropriate. “But you see my point, yeah?” she asked, sobering and meeting his gaze squarely. “You only hunt monsters, Alastor. That’s why I don’t think you’re going to hurt me.”

“Oh, but you’re forgetting one thing, my dear,” Alastor smirked, aura dark and dangerous as he loomed in close, as if to share a secret. “... _ Everyone is a monster _ .”

“...I’m sorry you feel that way,” Sandy said sadly, and Alastor drew back to see that she really meant it. His lip wanted to curl in disdain at the sympathy in her eyes.

“In any case, I feel I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here, darling,” he said. “You know all about  _ me _ , and yet I know next to nothing about  _ you _ . That doesn’t seem very fair, now does it?”

“Good thing I want to make a Deal, then, isn’t it?” Sandy asked coyly. “Once you have my soul, well… I suppose you could compel me to tell you whatever you like, couldn't you?"

"There aren't many souls out there willing to make such a Deal,  _ especially _ once they know who I am," Alastor noted, regarding her shrewdly. "Not so readily, and not when there  _ are _ other options available, despite what you led dear Charlotte to believe. You know more than most going into this, and judging by your aura you're more than powerful enough to take care of yourself, with or without my help. So tell me, sweetheart…" 

He shifted closer, and tucked his fingers up under her chin, gently tilting her head up to expose her delicate throat. 

"Why are you making this so easy?" he asked in a soft voice, eyes tracking intently across her face.

"Well," Sandy said, turning her gaze coquettishly to the side. "That's for me to know…" Her eyes flicked back to his with a mischievous little smile. "And for you to find out."

Alastor blinked down at her - then threw his head back with a bark of laughter at the sheer audacity of her. Yes, sir! Come hell or high water, he was definitely keeping this one!

“Alright, my dear,” he smirked, taking her hand and brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles. "Let's draw up a contact."

Then he snapped his fingers, the darkness abruptly retreated, and Sandy found herself standing in an ornate reading room. The walls, lit with old fashioned gas lamps, were wood-paneled with dark mahogany, over striped cherry-red wallpaper. Flames danced merrily within the hearth of a large fireplace, decorated with an enormous rack of antlers and half a dozen animal skulls. An oriental rug lay before the fireplace, done in shades of red and cream, framed by two red wing-backed chairs. On the other side of the room stood a large oak desk, the thick legs carved into clawed feet, with several bookcases looming behind it. Wine colored drapes covered the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the other wall, blocking out any light. 

"Now, you wanted me to buy the Hotel, and then sign the deed over to Charlotte, correct?" Alastor said, heels clicking smartly on the hardwood floors as he walked over to the desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheath of parchment, as well as a red quill pen, and a bottle of ink. 

"That's right," she replied, watching as he wet the quill on his tongue, dipped it delicately into the ink, and began to write in a tall neat cursive. 

"After which, you want to volunteer as a... _ shrink _ ," he continued, rolling his eyes in disdainful amusement, his thoughts on that particular line of work abundantly clear.

"And a healer, yes," Sandy nodded. "But that means...I’m not going to hurt anyone, unless it’s to defend myself or someone else. If I did it could frighten away potential patients, and that would negate the whole reason I came here in the first place.”

"Very well," Alastor conceded. “Was there anything else?” 

Sandy tilted her head, thinking about it. 

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I’d like to sing on your radio station. Maybe...two and or three times a week? Yes, that should do.”

“You sing?” Alastor asked, looking absolutely delighted, ears pricked forward with interest.

“Well, I am an angel,” Sandy grinned, with a lop-sided shrug. “Course I sing.”

“Sing something then,” he smirked, handing his microphone to her with a twirling flourish, before taking a seat at his desk. He crossed one ankle over his knee, and gave her a wide encouraging smile. “Let’s see what you can do, darling!” the microphone added, winking up at her - which was impressive considering it only had the one eye to work with. 

Sandy smiled softly back, cupping the microphone’s head in both hands, and let her eyes slip closed. When a painfully familiar piano melody began threading through his own personal radio waves, Alastor’s grin nearly fell out of pure shock. Somehow, she was connecting with his magic, gently coaxing it into cooperating with her.

And then the angel started singing, with a voice as pure as ringing crystal, the sound of it reverberating right down to his bones, and the whole world seemed to go still. 

_ “In the shade of the old apple tree, _

_ When the love in your eyes I could see…" _

Long forgotten memories began to rise to the surface, as if drawn up out of the depths of a deep dark lake. 

_ "When the voice that I heard, like the song of the bird, _

_ Seemed to whisper sweet music to me…" _

His mother singing to him as a child, in a hushed voice so as not to wake his father. Quiet evenings spent in front of the radio, listening to soft jazz and ragtime blues. A sweet voice in his ear while delicate fingers carded through his hair...

_ "I could hear the dull buzz of the bee, _

_ In the blossoms as you said to me…" _

Alastor propped his elbow against the arm of his chair and rested his cheek against a curled fist, eyes at half-mast and his smile softening at the edges.

For the first time since he had died, the oppressive atmosphere of Hell seemed to ease up, just a little bit.

_ "With a heart that is true, I'll be waiting for you, _

_ In the shade of the old apple tree." _

Slowly, the music faded away, and Alastor blinked as if coming out of a dream. He quickly straightened up in his chair, tugging on the lapels of his coat and adjusting his monocle.

That...was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, in life or death.

"Yes," he said decisively, before Sandy had even opened her mouth. "You may sing."

"How often?"

"Oh, I should think everyday, dearest!" Alastor grinned, feeling giddy and lightheaded. Did the room seem brighter? The shadows had definitely been darker a moment ago… Extraordinary!

"Not a problem," Sandy nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "As long as you broadcast it to the rest of Hell now and then."

Alastor's ears wanted to tick back, and he had to concentrate to keep them erect. He knew, without a doubt, once the other Overlords found out about his little songbird, they wouldn't leave him alone about her. 

And he absolutely did _ not  _ wish to share.

"Ah...yes," he said, pulling the contract closer and plucking up his quill. "What was it you said? Once a year?"

"Three times a week," Sandy replied, looking amused.

"How about once a month?" Alastor asked, with his most charming smile. 

"Three times a week," Sandy repeated patiently, unfazed.

" _ Once _ a week?" Alastor tried again, and this time his smile was decidedly unnerving.

"Three times a week," Sandy said firmly. "Or not at all."

"Three times a week it is!" Alastor said cheerfully, baring his fangs in a fixed grin, and wrote that down with a few more aggressive strokes than was entirely necessary.

"For at least an hour," Sandy added, coming around the desk so she could read the contact over his shoulder. 

"Oh, if you  _ insist _ ," Alastor sighed, heavily, and rolled his eyes for good measure, but dutifully jotted that down as well. Sandy reached past him and picked up the contract, leaning a hip against his desk while she read it over. He waited until she nodded her satisfaction, then he clenched a fist, claws digging into his palm deep enough to draw blood, and dipped the quill straight into it. 

He signed his name with a stylish flourish.

Then he turned to her with a devilish smile.

"Well, my dear?" he asked.

“You’d better do it,” Sandy said, offering him her hand. “I’m no good with this sort of thing.”

“As you wish,” Alastor murmured, crimson gaze burning as he gently ran his thumb across her palm, before slicing open a thin cut with a claw. Sandy didn’t even flinch. She just picked up the quill, dabbed the tip against her palm, and directly beneath his name she scribbled  _ 'Sandalphon'  _ in a messy scrawl somewhere between a bastardized cursive and complete chicken scratch. 

Alastor eyed her signature critically, then looked down his nose at her in a distinctly  _ unimpressed _ sort of way. Sandy just rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and completely ignored his disdain. 

Meanwhile, the contract had begun to glow with a cool green light, almost humming with power. It was primed now, and binding, but not yet fully activated. 

All that was needed now was for Alastor to uphold his end of the bargain.

Sandy cupped her bleeding hand, intending to heal it - but startled when Alastor drew it towards himself and ran his tongue across the wound, watching her flushed face the whole time. Then a fine shudder ran through the demon’s frame, and his eyes went wide. In the next moment, he had yanked her close, and Sandy sucked in a breath at the brush of fangs against her neck.

“Alastor,” she said warningly, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not yours yet. Remember?”

Alastor tensed at the contact, and drew back immediately, pupils blown and his breathing a little deeper than normal. He shook his head minutely, ears quivering, and stared down at her in wordless bewilderment, clearly stunned at his own reaction.

“Apologies, my dear!” he said, plastering on the fakest smile yet, his radio voice scratchy with white noise. “I don’t know what came over me!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Sandy sighed, shaking her head with a rueful and lop-sided smile. “...It’s an angel thing. Demons are kind of...attracted to us. Like moths to a flame, really.”

Alastor considered her for a moment. 

“Is that why you chose to make a Deal with me?” he asked, linking his hands firmly behind his back to hide their slight trembling. “Protection?”

“Among other things,” Sandy replied, being deliberately vague just to mess with him. 

“You know I’m quite... _ carnivorous _ , yes?” he asked softly, drawing closer with a wicked glint in his red, red eyes. 

“Oh, I know,” Sandy said seriously, holding up her hands. “Still. There are worse things you could do than go all Twilight on me.”

“I...beg your pardon?” Alastor said, cocking his head in genuine confusion.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sandy chuckled, waving a hand at him. “It’s just a dumb reference. All you need to know is that it involves vampires.”

“Are you...comparing me to Dracula?” he smirked. 

“Actually, you’re more like Alucard, come to think of it,” Sandy mused thoughtfully. “Same sort of dress sense, anyway. Lots of red. Aaand I’ve lost you again. Nevermind. When were you going to talk with Lucifer about the Hotel?”

“Well,” Alastor said, marching across the room so he could throw open the drapes, allowing the red-gray dawn to stream in through the high Baroque-style windows. “There’s no time like the present!”

In a flash, he vanished into the remaining shadows, only to materialize at her side a moment later. He offered her his elbow with a gentlemanly little bow, and Sandy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, smiling up at him. 

“Now then,” Alastor grinned. “Let’s go pay the King a visit, shall we?”

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's chapter 3! Please leave a kudo and a comment if you're feeling generous. I really want to know what people think of it so far. Also, please let me know if something doesn't make sense or you find an error somewhere. I've rewritten this multiple times, so I might have missed something somewhere. 
> 
> As a side note, I really like the idea of a handsy Alastor. He's pretty grabby in the pilot, and with Sandy being a sort of demon magnet, I amped it up a little here. Hopefully he's not too out of character, and is still very against being touched without permission because he's a prat. And obviously, I made up the Bayou Butcher backstory, which I plan to go into more detail on in later chapters.


	4. The Slaughter House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 9/29/2020. Changed Alastor's description to deer instead of stag.  
> Edited 11/3/2020. Changed Stolas and Seviathan's relationship. They are no longer directly related as uncle and nephew, but the families are still pretty close.   
> Edited 2/17/2021. Changed Vox's voice. 
> 
> Oh my gawd that took forever, but I finally finished this chappie! Woot! Sorry for the long wait, guys, but this one went in a bunch of different directions for a while, until I finally came up with something I liked, and now here we are!

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO IV Oo.**

**The Slaughter House**

* * *

“Ah - Well, actually - here’s the thing,” Sandy said quickly, before the shadows could swallow them. They chittered to themselves for a moment, and a few heads cocked, and a hundred little eyes blinked at her. She could almost see them, stitched bodies frothing over one another in every crevice and crack, every nook and cranny, every dark place where the light did not reach. 

Alastor paused, inclining his head towards her. 

“Yeees?” he prompted. 

"Let's just say Lucifer and I have a bit of...history," Sandy said, picking her words delicately.

"Oh?" the deer said, ears pricked forward in keen interest, the air warbling with the modulating squeal of tuning frequencies. "What sort of history?"

"The _contentious_ sort," Sandy admitted, chuckling when a disembodied audience went _'oooooo'_. "He won't be happy I'm here, and if he knows about the Deal, I think he might try to void it."

Which would certainly throw a wrench in his plans, and rob him of one of the most powerful souls he'd ever encountered.

Alastor's smile sharpened dangerously. The glint of his earlier bloodlust still lingered in his eyes, gleaming like a knife in the dark, held in check by the tenuous strings of his self-control. Getting a taste of the angel had already tested them once today. The idea that anyone, even the King of Hell himself, might have the power to take away his pretty little toy - before he'd even had the chance to play with it - was completely unacceptable. 

He could feel those strings beginning to creak with strain.

"You think he'll object in the same way he would to a Deal with Charlotte?" he asked. 

"For different reasons, but yeah, pretty much," Sandy nodded.

"Would he also try to kill me, then?" Alastor wanted to know, cocking his head curiously.

"Uh...he might," Sandy admitted slowly, wincing, but her honesty was refreshing. "That's...not a problem, is it? That you might become a target?"

"Ha! Certainly not, my dear!" Alastor laughed, with a wicked smile. "At least not enough to deter me. And I get the feeling you could give the King a run for his money in terms of power."

"True. Course, that's also one of the reasons Lucifer would probably try to break the Deal up in the first place," Sandy continued with a small frown. "That, and he _really_ doesn't like me."

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, fingers tap-tapping along the staff of his microphone as if it were a piano. "What on earth did you do to attract such ire, my dear?"

"Sorry, but that's a looooong story, and we're strapped for time as it is," Sandy replied, earning a somewhat impatient huff from the Overlord. "I'd like to keep things moving along here, if you don't mind."

"So eager!" Alastor said, baring his teeth in a dangerous grin. "Just know that you and I are going to sit down and have a nice long chat once I own you."

"Looking forward to it," Sandy quipped cheekily. "Will there be coffee?" 

"Of course!" he beamed. "Although - should our agreement fall through...what will you do?"

"Try and cut a Deal with whoever ends up buying the Hotel instead, I guess," Sandy admitted, noting that his hands subtly tightened around the shaft of his microphone. "But," she added, winking up at him. "I'm really hoping it doesn't come to that."

Alastor cocked his head and smirked. 

He knew when he was being manipulated. She wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. But she wasn’t being malicious, either. He wouldn’t have tolerated it under any other circumstance, but mostly he was just impressed at her nerve and deeply curious to know why she was trying so hard to give him something he clearly already wanted. 

Offering him her soul was one thing, but then she had revealed her knowledge of his past - a dangerous admittance he would have killed anyone else for - and now he knew she’d not only had previous dealings with Lucifer, she was powerful enough to _challenge him and live._ Any one of those things on their own would have been enough to entice him, but all together? It was overkill. 

At this point he _couldn't_ let her fall into anyone else's hands, because the only other demons capable of buying the Hotel were the other Overlords or a Royal. If any of them got their claws on her...if they gained her power...discovered what she knew...

The Shadow loomed up behind Sandy, its frayed edges convulsing as it wrapped black claws around her waist and gripped her shoulder in its teeth. Not hard enough to draw blood - goodness, he wouldn't be able to restrain himself! - but enough to get the message across.

_Mine._

"No, indeed," Alastor intoned through the low, crackling hiss of white noise. "We _certainly_ can't have that."

He might have to kill her if it did, and wouldn’t _that_ be a shame?

"No, we can't," Sandy agreed serenely, her calm aura gradually working to reduce the harsh feedback. After a moment, the Shadow’s harsh edges began to soften, though it still refused to let go of her. She didn’t seem to mind. “So. It might be a good idea to drop me back at the Hotel, while you take care of things on your end.”

The Shadow bared its teeth, grip tightening almost painfully, and Alastor smirked.

“Perhaps,” he hummed, snaking a possessive arm around her waist and pulling her close, a dark grin twisting his features. “But if you think I’m going to let you out of my sight, you have another thing coming, my dear!”

“Fair enough,” Sandy nodded. “What would you suggest, then?”

"This," Alastor said simply, and brought his microphone down on the floor with a resounding crack. 

The Shadow grinned, and then started melting, dripping down her shoulders and arms like black molasses. If she was surprised, she didn't show it, merely watching with interest as the Shadow slowly engulfed her body. And then it opened its mouth impossibly wide, and she shut her eyes as it swallowed her whole. 

Only her halo remained untouched, the Shadow passing through it as if it weren't even there.

Alastor curled his hand into a fist, a little tighter than necessary, the heady feeling of her pulse beating steadily within his grasp all but intoxicating. Digging his claws into his palm, ancient runes began to dance in the air around him and the static grew to a deafening roar. Then a fine tremor rippled through the Shadow, and it faded away, lingering as an invisible shroud of dark energy that covered her from head to toe.

"Oh," Sandy said, running her hands down the shimmery blue flapper dress she was now wearing with an appreciative grin. "Nice glamour."

"Why, thank you, my dear!" Alastor beamed.

"You wouldn't happen to have a mirror, would you?" Sandy asked, and the deer stepped smoothly to the side to reveal a full-length mirror that definitely hadn't been there a second ago. She stepped forward, turning on the spot to admire his handiwork.

The whites of her eyes had vanished, leaving black pupils over a solid sky blue. Black horns now curled away from her temples in tight loops. Her whole body was now covered in a thick coat of fluffy white wool, with short black fur on her floppy ears and heart-shaped face, as well as her arms below the elbow and her legs below the knee. Or rather, _hind_ legs, as hers were looking decidedly more beast-like, with tiny cloven hooves instead of feet. A fluffy white tail spilled out the back of her dress, accented with a black ribbon tied in a neat bow.

She smiled, revealing a mouth full of fangs.

It wasn't a full transformation, of course, merely an illusion that disguised her true form beneath. She could feel the Shadow all around her, too - almost like wearing a full-body furry suit, just a lot more breathable.

"A sheep?" Sandy said, lifting a brow at the demon, and her eyes were definitely laughing. "Really? That's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

"But appropriate!" Alastor retorted, giving _her_ nose a playful tap. "Your halo, however…"

"Yeah, Luci'll definitely recognize that," Sandy nodded, and he smirked at the nickname. "Fortunately, I know a few tricks of my own…"

Pressing her hands together, as if in prayer, Sandy closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration. After a second or two, the air shifted as the pressure dropped, and Alastor's ears popped as the subtle tinny ringing he hadn't really noticed until now gradually faded away. Slowly, the quiet power radiating off the angel lowered to a dull hum as she gathered her aura and drew it inward, until it was fully hidden behind his Shadow like an eclipsed moon.

At the same time, her halo shrank to the size of a ring, which she plucked out of the air and stuffed away in her pocket. Blinking her eyes open, Sandy gave her reflection a critical look. He could feel her testing the illusion, bound wings straining slightly against the Shadow, looking for weaknesses. She could probably break the glamour if she really wanted to, but after a moment she nodded to herself in satisfaction and let it be.

"That should do it," she said. "Just try to avoid using my full name for now. Lucifer isn't the only one who knows it." 

"Sandy it is, then," Alastor agreed.

"Should I act the part, do you think?" she asked with a lopsided grin. "Be a little bit more...sheepish? Maybe throw in a slight s-st-stutter?"

Her posture shifted, one hand reaching up to grip her upper arm, shoulders hunching and her chin tipping down. Her eyes were still dancing, but suddenly her body language was screaming _'I'm small and meek and harmless! Take advantage of me!'_

Alastor's smile nearly split his face in half.

"Keep that up," he purred, pinching her cheeks with both hands, his fangs gleaming in the light. "And I might just be tempted to eat you."

"Aw, you say the nicest things," Sandy quipped, affecting a playfully bashful look. 

"Anything else before we go, my dear?" he asked, chuckling.

"Oh - yeah. Would you mind sending word to Charlie real quick, let her know what's going on?" Sandy asked. "I'm not sure how long this is going to take, and I don't want her to worry."

Oh, this _darling_ girl. 

It wasn't often he encountered someone who actually thought about someone else's feelings. Charlie came to mind, of course, and perhaps Vaggie if she was in the right mood, but for the most part demons really only cared about themselves. _He_ couldn't care less about other people, but having grown up in the South, he'd been used to a certain level of consideration that was sorely lacking here in Hell. 

Good manners were such a breath of fresh air these days.

"Of course," he smiled, jotting down a quick note for Charlie's benefit, before handing it off to one of his minions. It took the paper in its teeth and skittered off, vanishing into the dark.

"Now then," he said, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

“We shall,” Sandy smiled, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, and the shadows closed in around them. 

**.oOo.**

They appeared a moment later in front of the Clock Tower, which acted as Lucifer’s main business office. Alastor looked around curiously, noting the streets were a little emptier than usual - then again, Sandy _had_ torn the sky open last night. It wasn’t surprising that demons were choosing to be a little more cautious than usual until they knew more about what had happened. Good, that would work to his advantage. The Hotel might have been decrepit and run-down, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a prime piece of property, so the less competition he had to deal with the better. 

He held the door open for Sandy, who flashed him an appreciative smile in return, and stepped into the front lobby. The interior was tastefully done in an Art Deco style, with polished black floors, criss-crossed with gold. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, and the walls were a deep red, with white and gold trappings. Inside, it seemed even more chaotic than usual, with a number of imps running around with panicked expressions, carrying heavy files or taking phone calls. 

He approached the main desk briskly, shoes clicking across the tiled floor. Sandy stuck close to his heels, already taking on her more sheepish persona, complete with wringing hands and nervous glances. 

A harried-looking imp glanced up from her monitor, and then visibly froze when she recognized Alastor, her yellow eyes practically bugging out of her head in terror. 

“Hello, darling~” Alasor purred, leaning down into her personal space with an unnerving grin, revelling in the fear rolling off her in thick waves as he towered over her. He wouldn’t do anything to her, of course - imps were typically beneath his notice as he often preferred more powerful prey - but she didn’t have to know that.

“M-Mr. Radio De-Demon, sir!” she squeaked. “H-how can I help you?”

“It’s come to my attention that Mr. Magne is selling one of his properties, and I’ve come to make an offer for it,” Alastor replied, straightening up once more and fixing his bow tie. 

“A-alright,” the imp stammered, turning back to her computer to check her information. “U-unfortunately, His Ma-Majesty is out at the m-moment and isn't t-t-taking visitors. Y-you'll need t-to speak with Miss Annabelle in the fi-financial dep-department," she said after a few nerve-wracked seconds. "Ju-just take the elevator to the si-sixth floor, and you’ll find her at the e-end of the hall. Office number 36."

“Thank you, my dear!” Alastor beamed, already heading towards the lavishly decorated elevators on the other side of the room, and the imp breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, I suppose that makes things a little easier," Sandy murmured, just loud enough for him to hear her. "My guess would be Lucifer's still trying to work out what happened last night. Hopefully, we won't have to deal with him at all…"

"Darling, you _are_ in Hell," Alastor smirked. "Deals with the Devil are unavoidable!"

"You know what I mean," Sandy huffed as they stepped on to the elevator. They were joined by a few other demons, and Alastor made sure her hand was secured at his elbow, noticing the considering looks some of them were giving her. 

On a purely aesthetic level, he supposed even he had to admit her disguise was quite a fetching little thing. Perhaps he should have made her look uglier? Ah well, too late to change it now. At any rate, all it really took was a wide grin, and every single demon was pressing themselves against the walls of the elevator and then breathing sighs of relief when he and Sandy stepped off on the sixth floor. 

“Are you _trying_ to terrify everyone in the building?” Sandy asked him, laughter in her voice as they made their way down the corridor.

“Ha!” Alastor barked in amusement, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “My dear, if I had been _trying_ , there would have been a lot more screaming, I assure you!”

“Well, I’m pretty sure one of those guys back there almost wet himself,” Sandy chuckled. 

“Come now, a little fear never hurt anyone!” Alastor said, quirking a brow at her. “Though, as an angel, I would assume you’d be more disapproving.”

“Like you said, you haven’t hurt anyone,” Sandy replied as they came to a red door marked with the number 36, and a little black placard that read 'A. Blackwater' in fine gold lettering. 

“This time,” Alastor hummed, smiling darkly when she just shook her head at him, and rapped on the door.

"Come in!" someone called, and they stepped inside.

The room beyond was decorated just as lavishly as everything else, with plush carpeting, expensive oil paintings, and Art Deco paneling. Arched windows marched across the opposite wall, overlooking Main Street below, framed in thick velvet drapes and gilded panes.

Most of the room was taken up by a large mahogany desk, faced away from the windows, and buried beneath a veritable mountain of paperwork. The demoness seated behind it barely even looked up from her computer screen, fingers flying across the keys with practiced ease. 

One large eye took up most of her face, the pupil a rosy pink heart, which happened to match the color of her skin. A pair of short spiralled horns poked up through her curly brown hair, which she kept pinned back in a stylish but practical updo, and a long pronged tail wrapped around the leg of her chair. Like Alastor, her choice of dress seemed to have come straight out of the 1930's, with an emerald green jacket worn over a gray high-collared blouse and matching striped skirt that just brushed past her knees.

“Yes? Can I help you?” she asked, sparing Alastor a distracted glance - and then did a double-take, her face lighting up with a wide smile. "Alastor!" she cried, turning fully towards him, her work all but forgotten. "Well, curse my soul, what a pleasant surprise!"

“Good morning, Miss Annabelle!” Alastor greeted cheerfully. "I hope I'm not disturbing your work?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Annabelle tittered with a breezy laugh, flapping her hands in dismissal. "I was just thinking about taking a break, anyway, and I'd just love a chance to catch up with - wait, who's _she_?"

Annabelle had finally spotted Sandy, quietly lingering a step behind Alastor, and for a moment her friendly demeanor cracked - displeasure flashing through her eye like a stormcloud - before the sunny smile was firmly back in place.

If Alastor noticed - and Sandy was sure he had - he gave no indication.

"Ah, allow me to introduce my newest associate!" he said, stepping to the side and pushing Sandy forward with a hand at the small of her back. "Don't be shy, my dear. This is an old friend of mine, Miss Annabelle Blackwater. Annie, this is Sandy Shepherd."

"N-nice to meet you," Sandy said, fingers twisting together as she nervously met the girl's scrutinizing gaze.

"It's my pleasure!" Annabelle replied, fangs bared in a beaming smile. "But tell me, how did you come to meet Alastor?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid we aren't here for a social visit," Alastor interjected before Sandy could even open her mouth. 

"Oh - Yes, of course, where are my manners?" Annabelle said with an anxious laugh, visibly startling before regaining her composure. "My apologies. Please, have a seat. Now, how can I help you?"

"I've heard one of Lucifer's old properties is up for sale, and I've come to make an offer for it," Alastor replied, perching himself on one of the plush wing-backed chairs in front of the desk, while Sandy took the other.

“The old Apple Estate on Good Intention Street?” Annabelle clarified. 

“The very one!”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” Annabelle nodded, turning back to her monitor and pulling up the information. “And you are correct, that property just went on the market this morning. However, there have been a few other offers for it, so Lord Magne has decided to put it up for auction.” A wicked smile crossed her features, her eye glancing at Sandy before giving Alastor a knowing look. “Still interested?”

“But of course!” Alastor laughed, his smile darkening with something twisted and bloodthirsty. Oh, this was turning out better than he'd hoped!

“Very well,” Annabelle said. “The auction will be held in Auditorium Five, at noon sharp. I’ll let them know you’ll be in attendance. Of course, in the meantime, you will be required to fill out the necessary forms…"

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick ream of paperwork held together with an alligator clip, dropping it heavily onto the desk with a cold smirk. 

"Remember, all forms must be signed in triplicate, and turned over to the proper channels before the auction starts," she added helpfully.

"But of course," Alastor smiled, plucking up the forms and immediately dropping them in Sandy's lap, who fumbled a bit and just barely managed to not scatter everything on the floor. Annabelle hid a smirk behind her hand, nasty amusement dancing in her eye.

“Thank you very much, my dear!” Alastor said, smoothly rising to his feet. "Now I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid we have to run. I trust I'll see you this Sunday for coffee?"

"Yes, of course!" Annabelle smiled.

"Wonderful," Alastor said. "Give Rosie my regards. Come along, Sandy."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office, Sandy trailing in his wake. 

Annabelle waited until they had shut the door, then immediately reached for the old-fashioned rotary phone sitting on her desk, claws already flying through the numbers. 

"Yes, hello, Rosie?" she said, curling a lock of hair around her finger. "It's Annie. You will never guess who just walked into my office…"

Sandy waited until they were back on the elevator, alone this time, before breaking the silence.

"So, an auction," she said, skimming through the pages Annabelle had given them. "That's going to complicate things a bit…"

“No need to fret, my dear!” Alastor replied breezily, waving a dismissive hand. “I have no intention of letting the Hotel fall into someone else’s claws. And besides..." He bared his teeth in a dark grin, eyes sharp and hungry as he looked down at her. "This gives me an opportunity to see just what you're capable of. Are you familiar with the Slaughter House?" 

Sandy huffed out a sigh.

"I am," she replied evenly. "I take it you want me to fight in the ring, is that right?" 

_Ding ding ding!_

"And you got it in one!" Alastor grinned, ruffling her hair, while the bell sound effect echoed through the elevator and an unseen audience clapped enthusiastically. "Such a clever thing!"

“You do recall I said I wasn’t going to hurt anyone?” Sandy said, lifting a brow at him. “Pretty sure I said it in that conversation we just had, like, twenty minutes ago.”

“Of course I do!” Alastor grinned, pinching her cheek just a tad harder than necessary. “But as I recall, those terms were part of our contract - which, might I remind you, hasn’t actually been sealed yet. And unfortunately, sweetheart, it looks like the only way to do that is to go through the Slaughter House. Quite a predicament, isn’t it? I’m rather curious to see what you’ll do!”

"Well, I can't use a lot of magick right now either," Sandy admitted wryly. "A miracle would definitely get Lucifer's attention, so...hands a bit tied at the moment.”

"Are you trying to say you can't handle a few low-level demons without assistance?" Alastor smirked.

" _No_ ," Sandy huffed at him, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. I'm just saying, if an _Overlord_ gets involved, I _might,_ perhaps, possibly be in a teensy spot of trouble. Maybe."

"Oh, well, in that case I _might_ , perhaps, possibly be inclined to lend a teensy bit of help," Alastor said, grin practically stretching from ear to ear. "Maybe."

"My hero," Sandy deadpanned, earning a hearty laugh from him and a full-body squeeze from the Shadow.

"Now then!" Alastor said, clapping his hands. "We have a few hours before the auction starts. How would you like some breakfast? I know a lovely little cafe just down the street from here."

"Sounds good to me," Sandy smiled.

"Excellent!" Alastor beamed. "It should provide a wonderful venue for you to get started on that paperwork!"

Sandy glanced down at the thick stack of forms in her hands, and blew out a heavy sigh, much to Alastor's amusement.

It was going to be a long day.

**.oOo.**

"Boss, I still ain't gettin' it. What're we doin' again...?" Angel Dust asked as he stepped out of Valentino's limo, automatically taking the moth's offered hand despite the urge to smack it away, teeth grinding in resentment. He always hated it whenever Val insisted on treating him like he was some helpless dame, unable to do anything for himself. Yeah, sure, he liked cross-dressing and screwing guys, but so what? He was still a grown-ass man, for fuck's sake. He didn't need help getting out of the damn car.

He shook the thoughts away, staring up at the large imposing stadium with a raised brow. The Slaughter House? This was where all those rich fat cats liked to auction their shit off. Of course, this was Hell, so it couldn’t be that simple. Apparently, all those rich fat cats had gotten bored with just throwing their money around, so they’d come up with a new form of entertainment. Now, in order to participate in the auction, you had to throw a fighter in the ring. 

And as long as they were still alive you could keep making bids. 

That’s why it was called the Slaughter House. 

Angel grimaced, and shot Valentino a side-long glance. What the Hell was the bastard up to now?

"Aw, don't you worry none, Angel-Cakes," Val purred, patting the spider's cheek with a patronizing hand and a smug smile, Dia and Summer already tucked under each of his lower arms. "It's just you been tryin' so hard to show me you ain't just some pretty face, so...I decided to give you a chance to prove it."

"...yeah?" Angel said, looking up at the moth in confused surprise, but he didn't dare get his hopes up. With Val, there was always some kind of catch.

"Oh, yeah," Val grinned, his gold tooth glinting sharply in the light, red eyes narrowed to slits. "You do good here, baby, and you're gonna make Daddy _reeeeeal_ happy. Now, come on.”

Another large hand grabbed his ass, claws squeezing just a little too tightly, before sliding up to press insistently against the small of his back. Angel blew out a breath and fell into step beside the pimp, following him right past the ticket booth - Val had a season pass - and into the stadium.

Inside, it was lavishly decorated in shades of red, gold and white, with polished floors and marble columns and glittering chandeliers. There was a full bar selling drinks and snacks, tasteful fireplaces in the corners, and a number of red velvet couches for lounging. Several Overlords and Hellborn nobles milled about the lobby, flanked by lower demons or hellhounds or the odd imp.

"Oh, Valentino! Angel!" called a posh voice and Angel looked around to find a tall, leggy owl-demon stalking gracefully through the crowd towards them. A lascivious grin was already tugging at the corner of the spider's lips, and his eyes gleamed as he cocked a hip and crossed his upper pair of arms, pushing his chest-fluff up into an even more prominent display, while the lower pair settled on his hips. 

He retreated behind this mask so often it sometimes felt like his real face. 

"Hey, Stolas~" he purred, smirking when the owl's beak curled up into a wicked grin and a pair of black arms wrapped around his shoulders. The owl was one of his regulars, and a _very_ good tipper, actually, but _oh boy_ was he a freak. Angel almost felt sorry for whatever poor sap the demon was currently obsessing over this decade. 

Speaking of which...a rather tallish imp was trailing along behind the owl with a disgruntled scowl, obviously not very happy about having to be there. Large black-and-white striped horns curled back over his head, and his red skin was splattered with white splotches - like someone had spilled a bucket of paint all over him - one of which covered nearly half his face. Well, he was a snappy dresser, at least. 

“Angel, baby!” Stolas trilled, combing his claws through Angel’s fluff. “Where _have_ you been, darling? I’ve _missed_ you!”

“Oh, you know him,” Valentino said with a nasty smile, taking a deep drag off his cig and blowing a pink cloud of smoke in Angel’s face. “He _gets around_ , if ya know what I mean.”

The two demons shared a laugh, and Angel forced himself to laugh along, despite the tight knot in his stomach. He could feel the smoke burning its way down his lungs, numbing his senses for a moment in a euphoric rush that sent pleasurable sparks skittering like roaches across his nerves before swiftly dissipating, leaving him empty and hollow and itching for more. 

“Val, a pleasure as always,” Stolas smiled, moving past Angel to run his claws through the furry ruff around the moth’s neck. 

“Likewise,” Val replied smoothly, relaxed and at ease in the Royal’s presence, though Angel noticed Dia and Summer were squirming a little as his grip on them subtly tightened. “And thanks for comin’ on such short notice.”

“Well, of course!” Stolas tittered, leaning further into the moth’s personal space with a wicked leer. “When I heard what was at stake here, you know I just couldn’t resist! Wouldn’t miss it for the world! Speaking of which, have you met my associate? Oh, Blitzo, do stop sulking and say hello, will you?”

The imp, who until this point had been lingering behind Stolas, grimaced as the owl seized his wrist and dragged him forward. Despite his stature, he was still completely dwarfed by the three demons now towering over him, and didn't look at all happy about being boxed in.

“...yeah, hi,” Blitzo gritted out, clearly bristling as Stolas gently rested black talons across his shoulders, and clearly amusing the owl, who just smiled wider and dug his claws in.

“So, this is the dog you’re throwin’ in the ring?” Val smirked, lifting a skeptical brow at the imp, who actually had the nerve to sneer right back at him. 

“Oh, trust me,” Stolas hummed, his tone dripping with sinful confidence, one hand drifting up to cup the imp’s cheek. “Blitzy’s a _professional_.”

“Too bad he won’t stand a chance against the dog _I_ found,” said a decidedly slimy voice, as a demon Angel had seen a few times in the past - mostly at the stuffy galas Lucifer threw for the Overlords every year - stepped up beside them.

He was...very green. Ash-green skin, a mouthful of light green fangs, slicked back green hair. He wore a tailored green coat embellished with gold accents and a yellow ascot, atop a yellow dress-shirt and dark green pin-striped trousers, over polished black shoes and yellow spats. He also had one of those hats that looked just a little bit alive - a tall green military cap with a yellow band and a black bill. A number of slitted yellow eyes dotted the cap, and a row of green teeth lined the edge of the cap's bill.

Angel considered him with appreciation. As far as looks went, he wasn't half bad. Emerald green eyes over a blood red sclera, a slender figure, rather handsome features. His voice had the same sort of posh quality as Stolas - educated, cultured, and smug as Hell. And yet, in spite of his humanoid form, Angel somehow got the impression he was looking at some kind of...sea creature. Like one of those nightmares from the darkest depths of the ocean, with dead eyes and tentacles and a mouthful of sharp needle teeth.

An enormous black hellhound shadowed the demon, old scars criss-crossing his entire body, and thick cords of muscle rippling beneath coarse fur. His ears were cropped, badly actually, and even then one was missing a good chunk. His eyes were two red slits, no pupil or anything. The only clothing he wore was a thick spiked collar. There was clearly only one thing he’d been raised to do, and that was to fuck...your....shit...up.

And not in the fun way Angel preferred. 

"Seviathan!" Stolas said, looking genuinely happy to see the demon, and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Stolas," Seviathan greeted with a nod and a cocky smirk. "And Valentino. Fancy seeing you here."

"A pleasure, as always, Von Eldritch," Val purred, with a toothy smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Wonderful to see you, dear boy!" Stolas grinned. "Hope the family's doing well. How's that darling sister of yours?"

"Same as always," Seviathan shrugged.

"So...a spiteful little bitch?"

"Exactly."

"Excellent!" Stolas beamed, clapping his hands. "Well, you know Val, of course. Have you met Angel Dust?"

"Think I've seen him around," Seviathan said, casting a knowing look at the spider, and Angel gave him a flirty wink in return.

"Oooh, I think _ev-v-veryone's_ seen _him_ around!" laughed a painfully familiar voice, so modulated and auto-tuned until it didn’t even sound _remotely_ human anymore, echoing with a strange synthesized reverb or catching on an electronic glitch. 

Then a hand landed on Angel’s shoulder, and the spider jumped back with an indignant squawk at the sharp shock of static, his fur immediately puffing up like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. 

“Dammit, Vox!” he cried, ineffectually trying to smooth his fluff down while the TV Demon threw his flat-screen head back and cracked up. “Will ya _stop dat_?! Now I’m gonna look like a fuckin’ poodle da whole - !”

“Angie, baby, sweetheart!” Vox interrupted, a sleazy grin stretching across all twenty inches of his face. “Tell you what. How about I stop...when it stops being _funny_?"

He gave Angel's cheek a few condescending pats, and the spider had to resist the urge to bat him away (bad, bad idea), instead crossing both sets of arms and grumbling irritably to himself about the hours and _hours_ of work it was going to take to get all the tangles out now. Meanwhile, Vox just smirked in amusement and sidled up next to Valentino, who wrapped a hand around his arm with a grin.

“Vox,” Stolas greeted pleasantly. “Just here for the show, or did you plan on throwing your hat in today?”

“Mine’s ov-v-ver at the bar, but that’s the idea,” Vox replied, nodding towards a demon that, quite frankly, looked like a cartoon character. Like one of those old black-and-white toons Disney was so famous for back in the thirties and forties. There were actually a few of them in Vox’s employ - mostly because he thought it was a riot - but Angel recognized this particular fellow as one of the worst. “I mean, hey,” Vox continued with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “What’s the point in e-v-ven coming, if you don’t play, am I right?”

"Ha! Well, he doesn’t stand a chance against my little Blitzy-bear," Stolas cooed, pinching the imp's cheeks in both hands. Blitzo grumbled under his breath, leaning away from the owl with a roll of his eyes, but didn't dare try to throw him off. 

"What, _that_ little midget? Ha!" Vox scoffed with a mocking laugh-track, and the imp shot him a murderous look, despite being less than half his size. "Hate to break it to you, but _my_ guy’s gonna wipe the _floor_ with him!"

"Hm, we'll see," Stolas purred, unfazed.

"So, what are we all bidding on?" Seviathan interjected smoothly. "Think I saw a few Hitler paintings up for auction…"

"Oh! I'll have to take a look at those," Stolas said, claws tapping across his beak speculatively. "But no, we're actually here for the Apple Estate. Well, Val is. I just came to offer a bit of… strategic support, if you will." 

“Hey, whaddaya know? So did I!" Vox grinned.

“...You’re mostly just here to fuck with Alastor, aren’t ya?” Val smirked. 

“You know me sooo well,” Vox hummed, slipping an arm around Val’s waist and lightly squeezing his thigh. The moth stiffened, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, but his smile remained fixed in place and he let the hand stay where it was. 

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence," Seviathan said, his smile sharpening considerably. "I'm here for the Apple place, too."

"A run-down old shack like that?" Stolas asked, head cocking in confusion. “I understand why Val might want it, but if you wanted to flip the place, I’m sure there are easier properties in the City…”

"Well, it's not so much the building, as the current occupant…" Seviathan said, with a meaningful look at Stolas. 

"Ahh…" the owl said after a moment, smiling in realization. "Hoping to swoop in and save a certain damsel in distress, are you?"

"Something like that," Seviathan said with a crooked leer, though the hungry gleam in his eyes said something entirely different.

Angel glanced up at Val for a moment, feeling a little lost. The hell were they talking about? They were here to buy a…a house? Val already had the Studio, what the fuck did he need another crummy building for? What had they called it? The…the Apple Estate?

...Wait.

They weren't talking about the Hotel...were they? Was Charlie selling the Hotel? Because he'd left? Was it his fault? 

No. 

No fuckin' way. 

She wouldn't have given up that quickly. Shit, he hadn't even been gone a full day! It had to be some other place they were talking about. 

Then Val's gaze shifted, pinning him in place like a bug under a needle, and a nasty smile twisted his features. 

"What's the matter, Angel-Cakes?" he asked, sickly sweet, and ran his claws through Angel's hair. "You're lookin' a little lost there, sugar. Or… Wait, don't tell me you didn't _know_?"

"Know...what?" Angel said, his gut filling with lead at the smug look of triumph in Val's crimson eyes. 

"Oh, baby," he said, affecting a falsely sympathetic look and giving Angel's shoulder a squeeze. "I really had _no idea_. Guess I just figured - since ya spent the night at the Studio and all - that you'd heard the news already. I was - ”

"Oooh, come on, what would _he_ know?" Vox cut in, making Val’s smile twist with displeasure at the interruption. "The little slut's usually too coked up to tell his head from his ass! Besides, only V-V-VIPs were told anything about it."

"About...what?" Angel asked slowly, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"That Hotel ya been stayin' at?" Val continued, obviously relishing every word. "Lucifer's sellin' it to the highest bidder in about ten minutes. Better than lettin' his daughter make a fool of herself, if ya ask me. I mean, seriously? Redemption? For someone like _you_? C’mon, gimme a break."

"No sucking your way to the top on that front, Angelfish," Vox leered. 

Everyone laughed, but Angel was only half listening now. There was a rushing sound in his ears and a gaping pit in his stomach. It was hard to breathe. His heart hurt.

"Y-yeah, heh, dat's - dat's a fuckin' riot, huh?" he said, and hated the way his voice shook. 

If he was being honest...he hadn't exactly enjoyed being at the Hotel. It was boring. It was suffocating. There were too many rules. Vaggie was an absolute pain in his ass about said rules, and Alastor wasn't much better, as he was always too happy to play enforcer if he thought doing so would cause a scene. Husk and Niffty… Well, the bartender had his moments, but he was usually too drunk to hold a conversation, and Niffty had once stabbed him in the hand with a needle just for spilling coffee on the table cloth. And Charlie…all Charlie had to do was give him that disappointed fucking look, and he felt shittier than he _ever_ had with Val. 

But...it wasn't _all_ bad. 

He didn't have to worry about food or rent or sucking off his cockroach of a landlord (both literally _and_ metaphorically on that front) just so he could hold on to some shitty one-room apartment - infested with even _more_ roaches, but hey! At least it had a lovely view of a brick wall. With the extra cash he'd saved, not only could he afford the _good_ drugs, he could also keep up with Val's constant demands for money. 

That, and...no matter how much he fucked up...all Charlie ever really did _was_ just...look at him. She didn’t yell or scream or throw things or hit him. She didn’t try to guilt him or manipulate him or...or force…force him to...

...

She treated him like he was a person. Like he actually mattered. 

It was...nice.

And now… 

Now Val was going to make him fight to the death, in order to lose all of it. 

“But don’t ya worry your pretty head about it, sweetness,” Val said, slipping his thumb beneath Angel’s chin and tilting his head back. “Daddy knows how much ya like it there, so I’ve decided to buy the place for ya. Thinkin' about turnin' it into a new dance club. Ya'd like that, wouldn't ya?” He grinned, his claws tightening around Angel’s throat. “But I’m gonna need your help first, baby.”

Angel felt sick. 

“A-Anyt'ing ya want, Val…” he said, forcing a smile. 

“Good boy,” Valentino purred. “Now what do ya say?”

“...t'ank you, Daddy.”

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.....yeah. The Slaughter House was something I came up with - it just seemed like something that might exist in Hell. Like a mix between a dog-fighting ring and an auction house, where Overlords and such can force their employees to fight to the death while they shop for expensive shit. Maybe with holy weapons if they're feeling particularly nasty. At any rate, there should be some action next chapter, so...hooray!
> 
> Also, yay! Lots of Angel Dust! Hope I kept him mostly in character, while also running a commentary on what he really thinks of all this. Don't really know much about Val, except from what I've seen in the comic and the Addict vid, but I think I've got a pretty good handle on him. Maybe? We'll see. 
> 
> Also also, I'm SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that Hazbin got picked up for a series. 
> 
> Anyway, please lemme know what you think of it so far, your kudos and comments are SOOOOOO appreciated! 
> 
> Stay tuned!


	5. Six Little Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 9/29/2020. Added a few more pages to the end.
> 
> Hello, all! Here's chapter five! It turned into a lot more talking (which I hope is still entertaining…) but I promise there's gonna be loads of action in the next one. For this chapter, though, I wanted to introduce my version of the Seven Deadly Sins. I think Vivzie mentioned that Satan at least was his own character, and not Lucifer himself, and according to the Internets he is the Demon Prince of Wrath, so maybe the Seven Deadly Sins will actually be a thing in the show? Well, they're a thing in this version of the universe, at any rate. 
> 
> YOU SHOULD READ THIS PART MAYBE:
> 
> The reason I mention the Seven Deadly Sins here is because my versions of them are actually existing characters in other cartoon shows (and in one case, a videogame), and this fic is now officially a giant crossover even though I previously said I probably wouldn't do that but it turns out I'm a dirty liar. 
> 
> Anyway! Each Prince of Sin is some kind of chaos god, a powerful supernatural entity, or a straight up demon from an existing franchise. One of them is the humanized version of the original character, but I just changed the names for the rest. I've given you guys a few physical clues as to who they are, so see if you can figure it out. Whoever correctly guesses all of them wins an indeterminate prize! Happy reading.

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO V Oo.**

**Six Little Sins**

* * *

**_Earlier that morning..._ **

Lucifer reclined back in his chair and threw his boots up onto his desk, a thick cigar between his thumb and forefinger, smoke curling through sharp fangs. A fire crackled at his back, silhouetting him in shadow. Yellow eyes glinted beneath the rim of his top hat. Several screens took up the wall in front of him, radiating outward in a geometrically eldritch pattern, but the six screens arranged in the center were the most important. One by one, five of those screens flickered to life, each occupied by a dark figure with the same gleaming yellow eyes. 

The Great Princes. The Deadly Sins. The Archdemons that ruled the Seven Rings. Mammon, the Prince of Greed. Beelzebub, the Prince of Gluttony. Satan, the Prince of Wrath. Asmodeus, the Prince of Lust. Leviathan, the Prince of Envy.

The last screen remained empty. 

"Alright, boys," Lucifer - the Prince of Pride, himself - said with a crooked smile. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"We're still missin' one. Where the fuck's Belphegor?" Mammon growled, a displeased scowl marring his furry black face, pronged tail lashing like an angry cat.

"Is anyone surprised, considering who it is?" Beelzebub smirked, running a hand through his short black-and-blonde hair before folding his arms behind his head, stove-pipe tophat cocked jauntily to the side. "How much you wanna bet he slept through the whole thing and doesn't have a clue what's going on?"

"He’s supposed to tempt  _ mortals _ to sin, not serve as an example," Satan grumbled, drumming black claws across his desk with a roll of his eyes, thick red brows flickering like hellflame.

"Oh~hooo, like you're the epitome of patience and virtue!" Asmodeus tittered, with a pitched and strangely melodic, almost auto-tuned, giggle. 

"At least I'm not a  _ freak _ …" Satan muttered, green lips twisting into a disgusted sneer. Asmodeus merely pressed a red scorpion claw to his lips, and blew him a kiss with a flirty wink. Satan repressed a shudder.

"Let's just get this stupid meeting over with already," Leviathan huffed impatiently, his voice slimy and rough, like something that had crawled out of the sea after an oil spill. "I’ve got shit to do, and I’m not waiting around for that slob to drag his sorry ass out of bed."

"Agreed!" Lucifer said, clapping his gloved hands together with a toothsome grin. "So. What the fuck happened?"

"Other than the sky getting ripped open like a Thanksgiving turkey? Not much," Beelzebub shrugged, sliding sideways in his chair and draping his legs over the armrest. “Checked in with a few associates of mine. About a hundred demons are all over Penstagram, swearin’ up and down they saw a freakin’ angel smash right through the First Circle at around five last night, but since then? No sign of ‘em. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

"It must be one of the Archs, if they were strong enough to break through the Firmament," Satan said, claws stroking through his twisted red goatee with a thoughtful frown. 

"Ugh, better not be Michael," Beelzebub groaned, rolling the large yellow eye set in the center of his face. "That guy's  _ no _ fun! Stuck-up, self-righteous prick…"

"Raphael might be interesting," Asmodeus smirked, curling a claw beneath his chin with a salaciously naughty look in his yellow eyes, red skin glowing in the light of a nearby fire. "Oooo, or Gabriel! I can already picture the possibilities~"

"Do you not realize the seriousness of this situation?" Satan demanded, throwing his hands up with an almost wooden creak. "An  _ angel _ has broken into Hell. That means they’ve also broken the Accord. They could be raining fire down on us at any moment, and you're all just sitting around... _ blogging _ ."

"You don’t really think those goody-goodies are trying to start Armageddon, do you?" Leviathan asked skeptically, monocle flashing in the light as he raised a thin brow. “It seems to me they would want a war even less than we do.”

“Well, if they  _ are  _ here to start some shit, they’re in for a hell of a fight," Mammon growled, pulling a fat cigar out of thin air and lighting it with a flick of his thumb. “This chump’s on  _ our _ turf, so we got every right to take ‘em out. If we move fast, we can - ”

" _ Or _ they could have just Fallen and you boys are working yourselves up for nothing,” Asmodeus suggested, pulling out a nail file and buffing a claw. “I mean, it’s been  _ hours _ already, and  _ nothing’s  _ happened. If Heaven  _ is _ trying to start a war, they're certainly taking their sweet time about it."

“He’s got a point there, Moneybags,” Beelzebub smirked. 

"Yeah, but if somebody Fell, they would’a shown themselves by now," Mammon pointed out, reaching up to rub at the base of an ivory horn. 

“Well, maybe they're shy,” Asmodeus shrugged.

"Doubtful,” Mammon snorted. “Whoever they are, they're keepin’ a low profile, and they ain’t performed any miracles either, which means they know we can trace ‘em. But a fuckin’  _ angel _ ain’t gonna go unnoticed for long without a glamour of some kind. Makes me think somebody's helpin’ ‘em."

"What demon in their right mind would help an  _ angel _ ?” Beelzebub asked incredulously. 

"I can think of one," Satan drawled, with a meaningful look at Lucifer.

"You can leave Charlotte out of this, thank you," Lucifer replied with a dangerous smile. "My daughter would never side with that lot. This Heaven thing she's on is just a...a rebellious phrase."

"That's what you said after she broke up with my grandson," Leviathan pointed out, his lip curling into a sneer over poison-green teeth. "And yet here we are - three years later - and she's still running around with that one-eyed dyke. Seviathan is getting  _ impatient _ , and he's not the only one."

"And I am dealing with the situation," Lucifer said evenly. "This very afternoon, in fact. If everything goes to plan, young Seviathan will be in a position to win her back, and Charlotte will come to accept her rightful place in Hell."

“And all you had to do was crush her cute little dreams in the process,” Beelzebub laughed, cupping his chin in both hands with hooded eyes and a wicked smirk. 

“I am doing it for her own good,” Lucifer insisted, straightening his lapels with an indignant huff. “I know what’s best for her, and all of this redemption nonsense will only end in heartbreak, mark my words. It’s better for everyone if she learns that now, and accepts things for what they are.”

"And the angel?" Satan wanted to know.

"Like Money said, they’re trespassing, aren't they?" Lucifer said, a crooked smile twisting his handsome features. "Whatever they're doing here, that's a clear violation of the Accord, isn't it?”

"Oh, it certainly is," Mammon agreed, with a dark chuckle. "That's  _ breakin' the rules _ ."

"Exactly," Lucifer leered. "Far as I’m concerned, they’re free game. And we all know what to do with rule breakers. Don't we, boys?"

Five answering grins gleamed like knives in the dark.

**.oOo.**

**_That afternoon..._ **

"Are you sure you'll be alright for the auction, my dear? All you ate was garlic bread,” Alastor commented as he and Sandy made their way through the lower levels of the Slaughter House. They'd just turned in the required paperwork - which had taken over an hour to complete thanks to the unholy amount of entirely unnecessary red tape - and were now on their way to the fighter’s pit beneath Auditorium Five. 

"Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sandy replied in a low voice, sticking close to Alastor’s side, well aware of the looks she was getting from the occasional demons they passed by, ranging from mildly interested to hungrily bloodthirsty. “For some reason none of the main courses looked very appetizing,” 

"Oh?” Alastor grinned. “What a pity. That little cafe has always been quite a favorite of mine. All of its produce is locally sourced, you know."

"I would imagine so, given that it's main source of produce  _ is _ the locals,” Sandy sighed. 

" _ Is  _ it?” Alastor said, his eyes going wide in mock surprise. “Why, I had  _ no _ idea! How  _ terrible _ .”

"I  _ know _ , right?” Sandy said, playing along with him, and he chuckled darkly. “Honestly, I was half-expecting somebody to try and eat  _ me _ . I think half the people in there were drooling.”

"As if they would dare in my presence,” Alastor sniffed. “Though, I must admit, you  _ do _ look rather delectable, darling."

"I'd be flattered if I didn't know you meant that literally,” Sandy deadpanned. 

"Ha!” Alastor laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, you have nothing to worry about from me, dearest. You're much more entertaining alive than dead."

“That’s comforting to hear, thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome!” Alastor beamed, before coming to a stop at an imposing steel door, guarded by a burly crocodile demon. Sandy shifted more into her meek persona as the croc gave them a cold once-over, thick arms crossed over his scaly barrel chest. He raised a brow at Sandy and snorted, his scarred lip curling into a nasty smirk. 

“What’s this? Brought a little lamb to slaughter?” he asked. 

“Indeed,” Alastor intoned, giving Sandy a positively wicked smile, which she shivered at rather convincingly. 

“Guess you ain’t too interested in the auction, then,” the croc snorted. “That one won't last five seconds.” With that dire prediction, he pulled the door open and gestured Sandy through with a toothy sneer. “Well? Go on, meat.”

Sandy swallowed thickly, staring into the dark room beyond for a moment, before she turned pleading eyes up at Alastor. 

“P-please,” she breathed in a trembling voice. “Th-th-there has to be s-something else I can d-do…!”

“Ha!” Alastor laughed, thoroughly enjoying her little show. “I’m afraid not, my dear! After all…” He bent down until they were eye-level, his eyes at half-mast and his mouth twisted into a sadistic smile. “You brought this on yourself.”

Then he pressed his hand against the small of her back, and shoved her into the fighter’s pit.

“No, wait - !” Sandy cried dramatically, whirling around just as the door slammed shut. 

Alastor straightened his lapels with a prim little smile, gave the croc a polite nod, then turned on his heel and went to find a good seat. 

Auditorium Five was much like a boxing stadium, with staggered bleachers on all sides, surrounding the large raised platform that served as the combat ring. The only difference was that the ring was enormous, and enclosed in a thick wall of plated glass, meant to keep any gore or shrapnel or stray bullets from reaching the audience. Old blood stains and claw marks littered the floor, and several jumbotron screens hung from the ceiling, facing in every direction so no one could miss the action. The fighter’s pit was directly beneath the ring, where the combatants were held in between auctions, before being lifted up through a hidden trap door. It was all very dramatic.

It seemed most demons had gotten over their little scare from the previous night, and since nothing had actually happened in the way of angelic fury raining from the sky, the majority had returned to their sordid, regularly scheduled lives. The bleachers were already filling up with them, but Alastor had a pass to the VIP balcony box, so he wouldn’t need to mingle with the riffraff. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be alone, either, and his smile sharpened considerably when he saw who the other occupants were.

"Good afternoon!" Alastor greeted with a polite nod - his vacuum-tubed accent even more pronounced than usual - as Vox and Valentino turned to him with wicked smiles. Stolas’ head swiveled around with interest, while Seviathan merely lifted a brow and gave him an indifferent once-over. Alastor was familiar with the boy, though they'd never met before. All of the Hellborn nobles were on his radar, but this one in particular due to his previous association with Charlotte.

"Bambi!" Vox called with false cheer, jagged blue teeth bared in a wide grin, while Alastor's smile tightened in response to the hated nickname. "Well, it's about time you got here! And here we were starting to think you weren't gonna make it. Wouldn't  _ that _ just be a damn shame?"

"Indeed!" Alastor beamed. "Who else could provide a little class and style in such poor company?"

"Oh, come on, Al," Val purred, sidling closer to the deer with a smile like poisoned honey, itching to touch the other Overlord, but he was careful to keep his hands to himself. He'd learned that particular lesson the hard way. "Ya might... _ come _ like us if ya just give us a chance."

"Given that nobody actually enjoys the  _ pleasure _ of your company, I very much doubt that," Alastor replied, the air bristling with radio feedback, and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "It's no wonder you have to force it on everyone you meet!"

"Yeah, that explains all the demons fallin' at my feet," Val drawled, smirking over his shoulder at the two scantily-clad girls keeping his seat warm, before he took a deep drag off his cigarette and blew a cloud of red smoke straight in Alastor’s face. 

"Probably from the stench," Alastor noted flippantly, his lip curling at the sickly-sweet odor in thinly veiled disgust, though his fixed smile never wavered. He gave a casual flick of his fingers, and the smoke instantly furled away from him, as if struck with a strong breeze. 

"Oooh! Shots fired!" Vox grinned. "But you'll nev-v-ver know for sure unless you pull that stick outta your ass first. Let us know if you ev-v-ver want any help with that."

"I know an excellent replacement," Val leered suggestively, caressing himself with a firm hand.

"No, thank you," Alastor declined smoothly. "I'm afraid your goods are _ far _ too overpriced for what they're actually worth, not to mention the...contaminants. After all, there’s just no telling where they’ve been!”

Val's smile dropped, and Alastor smirked in triumph. More smoke began to spill through Valentino's jagged teeth, the cloying scent becoming even stronger, as the moth's eyes began to glow threateningly. Alastor’s shadows gathered closer in response, whispering in a hundred chittering voices and frothing like hot tar.

“As entertaining as this is, you did all bring along someone to do the fighting  _ for  _ you,” Stolas chose that moment to interject, already lounging in his cushioned seat with a tub of popcorn in his lap, watching their exchange in amusement. 

“True,” Alastor said, though he made no sign of backing down, posture rigid and his aura snapping like a pack of wolves. “Surely, we can both be civil about this, gentlemen?”

“Of course,” Val gritted out through a slimy, rictus grin. 

"It's not like you could actually take us in a real fight, old man," Vox added in a snide drawl. 

Alastor’s gaze slid towards him, the harsh shrill of feedback cutting through his microphone as his pupils ticked over into radio dials - 

And then the door suddenly burst open and Velvet came flouncing into the room, shattering the atmosphere like a stray baseball hurtled through a window. She carried a large tub of popcorn under one arm, with a soda in her other hand and a lollipop in her mouth.

“Hi, everybody!” she said cheerfully, her voice a childish squeal that never failed to grate on Alastor’s nerves, skipping up to Val and Vox and wedging herself in between them. “Did I miss anything? You boys start fightin’ yet, or what?”

“Who, us?” Vox grinned. “Not a chance. Just hav-v-ving a pleasant conv-v-versation between old friends. Ain't that right, Al?”

“Indeed,” Alastor smiled, brushing a bit of imaginary lint from his shoulder, expression back to normal and fixedly unconcerned. As much as he detested Vox and his cohorts, he wasn’t stupid enough to challenge the three of them together, especially not without Husker and Niffty at his side. 

Of course, if everything went according to plan, that wouldn’t be a problem for very much longer.

“The fuck ya doin’ here, babydoll?” Val asked, gently running his claws through one of Velvet’s mismatched ponytails. “Thought we told ya to wait at the Studio.”

“What, ya didn’t really think I was gonna miss out on  _ all  _ the fun, didja?” Velvet laughed with a manic grin and girlish little giggle, before she held her phone up and snapped a quick selfie.

“Hey, it's your head, sugarplum," Vox shrugged carelessly. "Or did you forget there's still an angel on the loose?"

Alastor’s ears perked with interest. 

“Oh, come on, it was obvi just somebody playin’ a joke,” Velvet scoffed, tossing her hair with a roll of her eyes while she typed a short description and posted the photo to her Penstagram account. “I mean, for realsies, it’s been, like,  _ hours. _ Ya really think an angel would just show up, and then not even  _ do  _ anything? Puh- _ lease _ . Besides, if you guys were so worried, ya wouldn’t even be here. So, there.”

“Fine, fine, but if ya get exterminated, that's on you, sweetness,” Val snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. “Still, I didn’t think ya went for this kinda shit. Since when are ya interested in fuckin’ real estate?”

“Well, I’m not  _ usually _ ,” Velvet said, tapping her chin. “But then I got to thinkin’ about all the neat stuff I could do with a new place, and I liked the idea so much I decided to break my piggy bank open and splurge a little! I even brought my favorite toy to play! This is gonna be so much  _ fun _ !”

"Hey, the more the bloodier," Vox said with a vicious grin, his gaze cutting back to Alastor. "That grumpy old kitty-cat down in the pit? Or did you bring the bug, instead?”

"On the contrary," Alastor smiled. "I've recently acquired a new associate, and wanted to see them in action.”

"Oooh?" Vox said, lifting an intrigued brow. "You must be bored of that pathetic hotel already, if you're throwing it away on some untested greenhorn."

"Not at all," Alastor smirked. "She's going to win."

" _ She _ ?" Val said, antennae perking up in interest.

"Is that so?" Seviathan said, stepping closer and giving Alastor a slow once-over. “Care to make a little wager then, if you’re so confident? Spice things up a bit?”

“Of course,” Alastor said through a narrow smile and hooded eyes. “What did you have in mind, my good fellow?”

“Well, it seems you’ve recently been in contact with an old friend of mine, and for whatever reason, it appears she’s taken quite a liking to you,” Seviathan said, brushing an imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder, casual as you please for someone who had just admitted he’d been spying on the Radio Demon. 

“You’re speaking of Charlotte, I presume?” Alastor asked delicately. 

“The very same,” Seviathan nodded, affecting a distressed look that didn’t fool anyone. “Unfortunately, we’ve had a bit of a falling out, and I’ve been looking for a way to get back in her good graces ever since. So, let’s say if  _ I _ win, you...pull a few strings, put in a good word for me, that sort of thing.”

“And when  _ I  _ win?” Alastor asked, with a quirked brow and a smug smile. 

“You won’t,” Seviathan said, a knowingly confident smirk tugging at his mouth. “But, why not? Let’s make this interesting. You win, you get one of my contracts. I’ll even let you choose which one.”

“Oh? How generous of you,” Alastor grinned, and extending his hand, already glowing with an eerie green light. “It’s a deal.”

“Deal,” Seviathan leered, his own hand glowing red. 

And they shook. 

**.oOo.**

"No, wait - !" Sandy cried dramatically, just as the door slammed shut with a metallic clang, locking her into a dimly lit concrete room. She stood staring at it for a moment, trembling slightly and panting, aware that she wasn’t alone. 

“Ain’t got all day for ya to stand around gawkin’, kid,” said a gruff voice, and Sandy whipped around with a startled noise, stopping short when she clocked the two demons watching her. 

The one who had spoken was a grumpy-looking pig-demon, wearing a black eyepatch, a thin mustache, and a hard scowl. He stood behind a bar on the right wall - the shelves stocked with weapons instead of booze - one thick arm leaning against the counter, and a meaty hand hooked into the back pocket of his grubby brown overalls. 

The second was a muscular, blue-skinned fish-demon with fin-like ears and long red hair tied back in a pony-tail. Incidentally, she was  _ also _ wearing an eyepatch, along with a grey jumpsuit and red combat boots. She gave Sandy one look, and a confident smirk flashed across her face, revealing sharp white fangs. 

“Heh, this is gonna be a piece of cake,” she grinned, already turning towards the heavy door on the other end of the dank little room.

“Sure ya don’t want a weapon?” the pig grunted.

“Nah, got everything I need right here,” the fish replied, a flash of blue light appearing in her hand, before coalescing into a long wicked harpoon. It blinked out a moment later, and the demon shot them a grin before shouldering her way out of the room. 

“Suit yerself,” the pig shrugged, before turning to glare at Sandy. “ _ You _ on the other hand…” he said, looking her up and down with a critical eye. “Looks like yer gonna need all the held ya can get. Can’t have the match endin’ right off the bat, can we?”

“I-I’m sorry, but...wh-who are you?” Sandy asked in a tremulous voice, approaching the pig slowly, ear laid back and her gaze darting around the room in a show of nerves. 

No cameras here. Good. 

“Name’s Porkrind,” the pig grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Lemme guess: youse ain’t ever been in an auction before, have ya?”

“N-no, sir…” Sandy shook her head. “I’m...I’m afraid I don’t r-really understand wh-what’s going on…”

“Figures,” Porkrind muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I ain’t got time to explain it all, if whoever brought ya didn’t even bother. Pretty sure yer just here as somebody’s idea of a fucked up joke, anyway. So, all’s ya gotta know is, yer gonna have to fight if ya wanna survive. That’s all there is to it.”

“F-fight?” Sandy said, jerking back a little and staring at him with wide eyes. “B-but I’ve never - I don’t know how to - ”

“Then yer dead,” Porkrind shrugged. “But, hey, yer in luck. They don’t allow holy weapons here, so if ya get slaughtered, you’ll just respawn again in a few days. Now, quit yer yappin’ and put this on.”

He reached under the counter, pulled out a dark grey jumpsuit, and unceremoniously 

tossed it at her head. Sandy sputtered, stumbling back a step as she fumbled with the heavy-duty fabric before finally untangling herself. Porkrind snorted, and wordlessly hooked a thumb at the changing stalls in the corner. Sandy took a breath and nodded, shoulders slumping in defeat as she stepped into one. 

She found the jumpsuit was surprisingly sturdy, inlaid with protective plating, with deep enough pockets in the pants to conceal weapons. Nodding to herself, she girded her skirts and stepped into the suit, pulling the thick zipper up in the front, and rolling the overlarge pants up around her knees so they wouldn’t trip her up later. 

“Put this on,” Porkrind said as she stepped out, holding up a thick black band. 

“Wh-what is it?” Sandy asked, eyeing it anxiously. The pig just rolled his eyes, then reached across the bar to grab her arm and yank her closer, clipping the band around her wrist.

“Vitals monitor,” he grunted, pressing a button on the side, and a red line began to run through the center of the band, jumping with every beat of her heart. “Lets the bidders know when ya kick it.”

“O-oh…”

“Can ya use a gun?” the pig wanted to know, turning to spit Sandy paused, then shook her head quietly, and he blew out a heavy sigh. “Take one anyway. Who knows, ya might get in a lucky shot. And pick out a melee.”

Sandy swallowed as he placed a small handgun on the counter, before sweeping her eyes over the varied selection of weapons hanging on the wall behind him. There were chains, whips, knives, axes, even a few swords. A whole bin of baseball bats with nails driven through the end. Even a rusty chainsaw. 

Then Sandy’s gaze landed on an innocuous black rod gathering dust in one corner, and her mind was made up. 

“Is that a collapsible bo staff?” she asked innocently, and the pig blinked at her for a second, clearly not sure  _ what _ to make of her now. Sandy winked, the corner of her mouth quirking into a sly smile, and Porkrind barked out a laugh, shaking his head as his snout twisted into an amused grin. 

“Oh-ho, I see yer game now,” the pig chuckled, reaching back to pluck the staff off the shelf and toss it to her, his smile only growing when she easily caught it. He watched as she tested its weight, flicking the ends out and giving the staff an expert twirl, before collapsing it once more and dropping it into the deep cargo pocket on her right leg.

“Think I’m set,” Sandy said confidently, before instantly slipping back into her sheep persona. “Th-thank you...f-for helping me…” she said, dropping her chin and reaching up to grasp her upper arm, shyly meeting the pig’s eyes through her bangs. 

“Get the fuck outta here,” Porkrind snorted, waving her off. 

Sandy gave him a smart two-fingered salute and turned to go. 

“Wait, don’t cha want the gun?” the pig asked, raising a brow at her. 

“I’m good,” Sandy said cheerfully, shooting him a cheeky grin over her shoulder “Trust me, I won’t be needing it.”

Porkrind shook his head, chuckling to himself, pulling out his phone as Sandy slipped through the door. 

He had some bets to place.    
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any guesses on who the Sins are?
> 
> And hey, lookit that! Porkrind's here now! And Undyne! For those of you that don't know, Porkrind is a character from Cuphead, and Undyne is from Undertale, so you can look them up if you have no idea what I'm talking about. Of course, they're not exactly the same characters as they were in their original works, so you don't have to know anything about those stories to follow this one. 
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who has commented and given kudos on this thing, I can't express how much I love and appreciate all of you! Your support really inspires me to keep going with this, so please let me know what you think of the story so far! 
> 
> And as always, stay tuned for the next one.


	6. Blood in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, ya'll! I added a few pages to the end of chapter five as of 9/29/2020, so go back and reread that if you haven't already.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented on the previous chapter, you guys are awesome! And everyone who took a guess at the Sins were dead on! I'm glad I was able to give you guys enough hints and stuff. I'm really looking forward to writing more on these guys, so you have that to look forward to. 
> 
> For those who are interested, here are the Sins: Satan is Aku from Samurai Jack, Mammon is the Devil from Cuphead, Leviathan is Black Hat from Villainous, Asmodeus is Him from Powerpuff Girls, and Beelzebub is Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls.
> 
> As for your prize, here is the next chapter to Heaven Sent! Enjoy!

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO VI Oo.**

**Blood In The Water**

* * *

The door opening drew Angel's attention away from his phone, and he glanced up in bored disinterest as a sheep-demon he'd never seen before stepped into the fighter’s pit, trembling from head to toe, and looking hopelessly lost. 

That fact alone told him right off the bat she hadn’t been in Hell for very long. She didn't have that  _ look _ about her just yet. The hard eyes, the sharp smile, the confidant stance. People learned very quickly here that any sign of weakness could and would be taken advantage of. This girl was definitely a greenhorn, probably somebody's idea of a joke, bringing a literal lamb to the slaughter. 

She'd be eaten alive.

Speaking of which...

"Well, well, well," drawled a thick Bostonian accent, as one of the other combatants pushed off the wall where he'd been smoking a quick joint. 

He was a short, stocky fellow dressed in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks, suspenders, and shoes, a red bow-tie and white gloves. His skin was pitch black - everywhere except his bone white face - with a somewhat glossy quality, almost like wet paint. A long, pronged tail whipped behind him and his round head was shaped into two short, stubby horns at the top. His eyes were entirely black, and when he smiled he revealed jagged white fangs.

Angel didn't care to remember his name, but he did know the devil was the leader of the Two-Tone Gang, a ragtag group of cartoon-themed demons that worked for Vox. 

"What've we got here?" the devil leered, stepping closer to the little sheep with a wicked grin. "You lost, little girl?"

"I - I d-don't know…" the sheep stammered, shying away from the devil and shaking her head. "I w-was brought here by someone, b-but I don't...I don't know w-why I'm...what I'm s-supposed to…"

"What yer supposed to do?" the devil finished kindly. "Well, I can tell ya that, sweetheart." His smile turned chillingly bloodthirsty. " **Yer supposed to die** ."

"Wh-what?" the sheep squeaked, eyes snapping up in surprise as the devil backed her against the wall, boxing her in with one gloved hand braced near her head. The other expertly flipped open a butterfly knife and used the point to gently lift her chin. 

She swallowed thickly, frightened gaze darting desperately around the gloomy concrete room, looking for help, but none of the other demons made a move to intervene. 

The fish-demon merely picked at her teeth with a dagger, watching indifferently. The hellhound was grinning nastily, clearly enjoying the show. Blitzo was too engrossed in his phone to care what was going on. 

"Yup. They don't call it the Slaughter House for nothin', kid," the devil said, blowing a cloud of smoke in the sheep's face, making her cough helplessly. 

"B-but I thought I was - I was a-already…!"

"Already dead?" the devil laughed. "Sorry to break it to ya, doll, but yer in  _ Hell _ . Dyin's a way of life down here, so to speak. Only difference is, ya don't stay dead for long."

"But - but that's  _ impossible _ …!" the sheep cried, looking horrified.

"Aw, this yer first time?" the devil cooed. "Then how's about you and me make a little deal, huh? I'll make it nice and quick for ya...and you be a good girl for me later." The sheep jerked when his gloved hand cupped her cheek, and a lecherous grin stole across the devil’s face. 

“I - I d-don’t - ” the sheep stammered in a quaking voice. 

“Oh, c’mon, baby,” the devil murmured in a low, seductive tone as his hand began to wander lower. “I can make it so ya don’t feel a thing - or I can make it so ya feel  _ everything _ . So whaddaya say, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl for me?”

He pressed the knife harder against her throat, his sharp grin growing ever wider, and then it was like his skin started... _ melting _ . Black rivulets ran down his face like thick paint, obscuring his eyes and staining his teeth. The sheep let out a terrified sound, and pressed herself against the wall, staring up at the devil in naked horror. 

“P-please…!” she gasped, pushing weakly against his chest. “P-p-please don’t, I - I just wa-want to go  _ h-home _ …!”

The devil’s hand began to run up her thigh, and something in Angel finally snapped. 

“Dat’s enough,” he said, before he’d really had a chance to think about what he was doing. Then again, he’d always had a soft spot for dames in trouble. Chalk that one up to his sister, he supposed.

That, and… Well, let's just say he couldn't stand assholes that wouldn't take a fuckin' hint. Plus with everything that had happened in the last day or so, he was itching for a fight, and this jackass had just made himself the perfect target.

The devil paused, glancing back over his shoulder at the porn star with an unimpressed sneer. 

“What was that?” he spat.

“I said, leave ‘er alone,” Angel retorted, stalking forward until he was looming over the much shorter demon with a twisted grin. “Or did ya not hear me from all da way down dere?”

“Who the fuck ya think yer talkin’ to?” the devil snapped, dropping the sheep and turning to face him fully. “I’m  _ Bendy the fuckin’ Ink Demon _ , bitch.”

“Bendy? Seriously?” Angel snorted with laughter, and the devil bristled at him, fury flashing in his black eyes. “ _ Dat’s _ da name yer goin’ wit' here? So, what, dat mean yer a lot more flexible den ya look? Or are ya just really good at  _ bendin' ova' and takin’ it up the -  _ ”

“Shut the fuck up!" Bendy barked, giving Angel a hard shove to the shoulder. “I ain’t no fuckin’ queer. If anyone’s takin’ anything, it  _ you _ , ya goddamn fa - "

The devil choked on the last word - and on the barrel of the gun Angel had just shoved in his mouth. He froze, his eyes going wide, and Angel gave him a nasty smirk. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," the spider said, and pushed the gun in deeper, grinning at the strangled sound Bendy made as it hit the back of his throat. " _ I didn't catch dat. _ "

"Alright, break it up, you two," one of the enforcers growled, a burly fellow that looked like a lot like a minotaur, with furry beast legs, cloven hooves, a thickly muscled torso and wicked bull horns. "Save it for the ring."

Angel stared Bendy down for a second longer, before yanking the gun away and stowing it with a dismissive toss of his hair. 

"Makes no difference to me," he shrugged.

"Yer gonna regret that, slut," Bendy snarled in a low voice, rubbing his jaw. 

"Bring it, dipshit," Angel sneered. 

"Load up," the minotaur ordered, gesturing towards the large circular platform that would lift them into the combat ring. 

Angel sauntered towards it without a backwards glance at the devil. After a moment, the sheep edged past Bendy and hurried after him.

"Th-thank you…" she said quietly, stepping onto the platform with a shy look at the spider.

"Don't mention it, toots," Angel smirked with a flirty wink, while the others began slowly piling onto the platform - Bendy shooting him a hateful glare on the way past, which he coldly ignored - and the minotaur went around making final checks. 

Angel lit a cigarette as they waited, considering the sheep with a side-long glance. He noted she was still shaking pretty bad, eyes wide as she stared down at the floor, breathing shallow. She looked like she was about to cry.

He sighed.

"Listen, kid," he said in a low voice, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. The sheep looked up at him, and yeah, those were fucking tears. Goddamn it, he was so weak. "Dunno how ya got yerself in dis mess, but it's obvious ya ain't suited for dis kinda shit. So...once da auction's over, look up a chick by da name'a Charlotte Magne."

"Wh-who's she?" the sheep stammered as the platform juddered and began its torturously slow ascent with a cacophony of grinding metal gears. An aperture in the ceiling opened with a low hiss, and the dull roar of the crowd above began to filter through. 

"Basically? She's da Princess of Hell," Angel said. "Y'anno, Lucifer's kid?"

"L-Lucifer?" the sheep squeaked, voice dropping to a whispered hiss, as if they might be overheard or something. "Like...like the  _ Devil _ …?"

"Like da Devil, yeah, yeah," Angel said, rolling his eyes. "It ain't what ya think, trust me. But listen. Charlie runs dis place called da Hazbin Hotel. Well, she might not after dis, but da point is she's been tryin' to help people. T'inks demons can be redeemed, or some shit. Didn't do much for me, but I dunno...maybe she can help you."

They were finally lifted into the ring, the platform grinding to a jolting halt beneath them, and the sheep looked around in terrified awe at the sea of demonic faces that surrounded them on all sides, shrinking in on herself at the jeers and catcalls and cruel laughter.

"Ya get all dat?" Angel said, snapping his fingers in her face. The sheep startled, eyes darting back to him, and she nodded shakily.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "Charlotte Ma-Magne. Got it."

"Good. And one oddah t'ing," Angel said, drawing a revolver from his coat pocket and pressing it right between the girl's shocked eyes. "Don't gimme dat look. Ya ain't gonna die - not for long, anyway. Just hold still, and I'll make it quick."

**.oOo.**

"Hon, please, there's no use worrying yourself to death," Vaggie said as she watched Charlie wear a hole in the lobby floor from all her pacing. 

"But it's been  _ hours _ !" Charlie fretted. "Where could they be? Ugh, if  _ anything _ happens to Sandy, I'll never forgive myself…"

"Oh, come on, sweetie," Vaggie cajoled. "Sandy's an  _ angel.  _ You know, one of the most powerful beings... _ ever _ ? I'm sure she can handle herself."

"I know, but...she's not an Exterminator, remember?" Charlie argued, wringing her hands. "She can't be a fighter, she's too... _ nice _ !"

"You're nice, and you've never had a problem kicking ass," Vaggie noted wryly.

"That's different, I grew up here," Charlie retorted with a shake of her head. "But Sandy's from  _ Heaven _ . You really think they have a need for self-defense classes?"

"Well...Alastor's with her," Vaggie pointed out, her lip curling at the name in poorly concealed distaste. "He seemed pretty keen on a Deal with her, so I doubt he'd let anything  _ too _ bad happen… Besides, he sent those notes, right?"

Charlie huffed, and dug the little scraps of paper out of her pocket.

" _ 'We're off to the wolf's den' _ ," she read aloud. " _ 'Out to lunch' _ ,  _ 'Taking a lamb to slaughter' _ . What does that even  _ mean _ ? Is...is he saying he's gonna hurt Sandy?" Charlie ran both hands through her hair worriedly, before turning towards the bar. "Husk, you've known Al for a while, right? Do _ you _ know what he means?"

Husk took a long swig from the whiskey bottle in his claws, belched, and dropped his chin into his paw with a look of absolute disinterest.

"Not a clue," he said flatly.

Vaggie shot a glare at the cat that went completely ignored, then took Charlie by the shoulders in an attempt to calm her down.

"Sweetie, listen to me," she said. "I'm sure wherever they are, Sandy's just  _ fine -  _ "

Abruptly, the antique radio next to the bar switched itself on with a screech of feedback that made everyone in the room jump. 

For a split second, Charlie expected to hear Alastor's voice, but the announcer that came through wasn't the Radio Demon. 

_ "Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to Auditorium Five,"  _ he said in an even monotone.  _ "We are just about to start the bidding. Let us bring out the combatants, and then you may place your bets." _

"Oh, shit," Charlie breathed, her skin going even paler than normal. "They're...they're at the Slaughter House."

" _ Hijo de puta… _ " Vaggie muttered, scrubbing a hand down her face at the unpleasant memories just the _ mention _ of that damnable place brought up. 

"We need to get down there," Charlie said urgently, but Vaggie shook her head.

"Babe, it's too late," she sighed heavily. 

"But - !" Charlie cried, only to stop with a startled look when Vaggie put a finger over her lips.

"The Slaughter House is all the way across town," she pointed out. "The fight will already be over by the time we get there. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do, even if we could get there in time."

"So we just sit here?" Charlie demanded.

"I'm afraid so, hon," Vaggie nodded, drawing the girl into a hug. "But try not to worry, okay? I don't trust that radio bastard, but...he knows what he's doing, and I don't think he wants to lose the Hotel any more than you do."

"You...you think he has a plan?" Charlie asked tremulously. 

"You can bet on it," Vaggie snorted with a roll of her eye. "Now come on, let's turn on the TV. At least then we can see what's happening." 

**.oOo.**

As expected, everyone took one look at Alastor's little fighter, and burst out laughing.

"Holy shit, you gotta be  _ kidding _ me!" Vox cried, slapping his knee while Velvet fell against his side in a helpless giggle-fit. " _ That's _ what you're bidding with? What, was Lambchop too busy?"

"Indeed!" Alastor grinned, thoroughly enjoying his companions' disbelief as they got a good look at the trembling mess of wool he'd decided to throw in the ring. 

Brushing past them, he made his way towards the three-by-three rows of plush red theater-esque recliners reserved for the VIP guests. Stolas and Seviathan had already claimed the front seats, so Alastor choose a spot behind them, in middle center. In this particular crowd, the back row might have been more easily defensible, but it was also an admission of weakness. A death sentence, as far as he was concerned.

And as expected, he was surrounded immediately. Vox took into the seat to his right with a predatory grin, long legs blocking the way out - not that that would deter Alastor if he were really inclined to move. Velvet appeared on his left with a manic smile, bouncing slightly and trying to sneak photos of the deer when she thought he wasn't looking. Meanwhile, Valentino settled into the recliner directly behind Alastor, blowing a cloud of red smoke at the back of his head with a nasty leer.

Outwardly, Alastor remained unaffected at their little power play, his posture relaxed and at ease. But a low, nearly inaudible hum thrummed just below the threshold of his frequencies, pulled tight like the string of a bow. Alert. Waiting. Ready to snap at a moment's notice.

_ "Bidding will begin momentarily,"  _ announced an even voice over the intercom. 

"Oh, she's just  _ precious _ ," Stolas cooed, curling one clawed hand beneath his feathered chin with an enchanted little smile. "Look how scared she is! Alastor, you _ fiend _ ."

_ "The item in question is a property currently owned by one Lucifer Magne, commonly referred to as the Apple House." _

"Don't know what ya were thinkin' with that one," Val smirked, as Angel Dust drew a gun and pointed it right at Sandy's head. "Seems to me Angel's gonna make quick work of 'er. Shame to mess up that pretty face…"

"We'll see," Alastor said, resting one ankle over his knee and settling back in his seat with a smug, knowing smile.

_ "Offers start at thirty-thousand." _

"Please,” Vox scoffed. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t know what to do with a broad, ev-v-ven if she got on her knees and begged, you fucking v-v-virgin.”

“At least I know how to treat one,” Alastor retorted snidely.

“By throwing her into a fight to the death?” Vox cackled. “Oooh, yes, v-v- _ very _ gentlemanly!”

“I’m an equal opportunity employer,” Alastor quipped breezily. “And besides, she’s not in any  _ real  _ danger - "

“What, because they’re not using holy weapons?” Vox interrupted. 

“Because they’re not a threat,” Alastor finished with a dismissive wave and a sharp smile.

“Well, then,” Vox purred, resting his elbow on the armrest of his seat and dropping the corner of his screen into the palm of his hand. “We’ll just hav-v-ve to see about that, won’t we?”

_ "Spectators may now place their bets. Combatants are as follows: Bendy. Undyne. Angel Dust. Blitzo. Sandy. Bidding will continue until all but one are dead." _

The names and faces of the combatants flashed up on the Jumbotron, with a list of their known powers, an estimate of how long they had been in Hell, and the name of the one bidding on them.

" _ One _ day?" Seviathan snorted incredulously. "She's only been here a  _ day _ ? Come on, you aren't seriously suggesting a newbie like that could possibly - "

"Oh, I'm not suggesting anything," Alastor cut in breezily, inspecting his claws with a prim little smile. "I  _ know  _ she's going to win."

"But you don't even know what she can do," Seviathan argued, gesturing at the three giant question marks where Sandy's abilities should have been. 

"I have faith in her," Alastor replied simply, chuckling quietly as if he’d just told a particularly witty joke. 

The others exchanged a skeptical look - clearly wondering whether or not he'd finally lost the rest of his mind - while the deer considered the little touchpad set into the arm of his seat. Already, bets were pouring in, with Sandy slated as the obvious underdog. Alastor smiled to himself, and put a thousand on her to win. 

"Bullshit," Val said flatly. "You're just fuckin' with us."

Alastor turned to him with a full-watt Cheshire Cat grin.

"Would you like to bet on that?"

_ "Final bets. Last call." _

"Yeah, I'll take ya on," the moth sneered. "I win, ya gimme that sweet little thing down there. I'll show ya how to take  _ proper _ care of 'er."

"And after I win, you convince Angel Dust to return to the Hotel," Alastor said. "He's our star patient, after all. We can't have him quitting so soon."

"Oh, sure, whatever ya say," Val smirked, shaking the deer's hand with a lot more force than necessary. That damnable smile never faltered, and sharp claws dug mercilessly into his palm. 

"It's a Deal, then," Alastor said.

_ "We will take no more bets. Bidding will begin in three...two...one." _

**.oOo.**

Sandy nearly went cross-eyed trying to get a look at the revolver in her face. It was a nice model, all black and sleek with neon pink highlights. 

_ "Bidding will begin momentarily,"  _ announced the intercom in a bored monotone.

Her gaze shifted, from the gun to the demon holding it, considering him quietly. Thick fur, multiple limbs, and if she wasn't mistaken, those little pink dots on his cheeks might actually be eyes. A spider, then, most likely with a retractable pair of arms.

"Wh-what's your name?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely raised above a whisper. The spider paused, before huffing out a heavy sigh and running a hand through his fluffy hair, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. 

The gun remained steady.

_ "The item in question is a property currently owned by one Lucifer Magne, commonly referred to as the Apple House." _

"Don't try and get cute wit' me, sugar," he said, crossing his lower set of arms and giving her an unimpressed look. "Dis ain't nothin' personal. I just can't afford to lose here, alright? Don't make it harder den it needs to be."

_ "Offers start at thirty-thousand." _

"Oh…" Sandy said, dropping her eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry. It's just…I don't kn-know anyone here, and...y-you seemed nice, is all…"

"I ain't  _ nice _ , ya got dat?" the demon snapped, tossing his head. "I'm a fuckin' asshole like everybody else in this shit pit, and da sooner ya learn dat da better."

"O-okay…" Sandy stammered, wringing her hands in a show of anxiety.

_ "Spectators may now place their bets. Combatants are as follows: Bendy. Undyne. Angel Dust. Havoc. Blitzo. Sandy. Bidding will continue until all but one are dead." _

"It's just…" she started slowly, glancing fearfully at the gun. "Y-you're not really gonna...k-kill me...are you?"

The demon tilted his head back with a low groan.

"...Dis really is yer first time, huh?" he said, giving her a pained look before scrubbing a hand down his face. "Fuck me… Okay. Yeah. I'm gonna shoot ya, but'cha ain't gonna die, least not permanently. Demons regenerate. It'll take a few days, and it'll hurt like a bitch, but ya won't actually bite it."

"But...but that's…"

"Yeah, sucks, don't it?" the spider smirked, shrugging with both sets of arms. "But hey, what can ya do? It's Hell. Only way out is on da end of a holy weapon."

_ "Final bets. Last call." _

Sandy cocked her head...and smiled.

"We'll see about that," she said, her voice suddenly calm and steady. The spider blinked at the change in demeanor, looking down at her in bemusement. "Nice  _ Web _ ley, by the way," she added conversationally, smirking at the revolver. "Good choice, given you're a spider, and all."

_ "We will take no more bets - " _

The demon's mismatched eyes went wide as she wrapped her fingers around the barrel of the gun.

_ " - Bidding will begin in three...two...one." _

The starting bell went off -

\- and the spider pulled the trigger.

Sandy had already tipped to the side, jerking the gun up so the bullet whizzed harmlessly past her head. Her other hand lashed out like a striking viper, jabbing the spider once, twice, three times. 

The harsh tone of his vitals flatlining cut through the air, and Angel Dust fell dead at her feet.

Sandy ducked as a pair of massive jaws snapped closed where her head had just been, pivoted on her heel, and slammed her palm into the hellhound's chest. He wheezed, and staggered into Bendy, who had been trying to flank her. Another flatline sounded, and the hellhound hit the floor with a heavy thud. 

The imp blinked at the two bodies, then yelped when Sandy appeared in front of him, moving so fast she was almost a blur. 

"Oh,  _ shIT  _ \- !" he screeched, jerking his flintlock up, but he never pulled the trigger. A third flatline rang out, and the imp slumped over dead.

_ "...Angel Dust, Havoc, and Blitzo are out,"  _ said the announcer, with just the faintest undertone of surprise, and for a moment the entire stadium went dead silent. 

**.oOo.**

"...the fuck just happened?" Valentino said, hand still gripping Alastor's like a vice, staring in wordless shock at the replay on the Jumbotron. 

"I believe I just won our bet," Alastor said primly, yanking his hand back and thoroughly wiping it on a black handkerchief. "Both bets, actually."

Seviathan was too busy picking his jaw up off the floor to come up with a suitable response. Stolas looked like an owl on meth, his eyes had gotten so big. A series of colored bars glitched across Vox’s screen, before abruptly restarting and snapping back to his stunned expression. Velvet had simply frozen, a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth, gaze locked unblinkingly on the scene below.

Alastor just smiled.

**.oOo.**

"Still think it was a good idea bringin' an angel down here?" Husk asked flatly, sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV with a bottle in his paw.

"Are you kidding?" Niffty said with a manic grin, bouncing a little in her seat next to him. "I think she's gonna fit right in!"

Charlie just swallowed and exchanged a wide-eyed look with Vaggie.

What in the Nine Circles had they gotten into?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of action in the next chapter, since it's basically Sandy vs Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine) and Undyne (Undertale). She took the others by surprise, but I don't plan to have those two go down so easy. Also, full props to thelostmoongazer for this version of Bendy. Just Google Mob Bendy and you'll get an idea for what he looks like, though my version's personality is pretty different. Guess I should also mention I don't own any of the characters or designs or anything, I just want to play with them. 
> 
> And as always, stay tuned!


	7. Finally, Some Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven, woot-woot!
> 
> It's been a hot minute, but I finally finished it! Reason it took so long is because I decided to go back and change up some accents, particularly Angel's. The dialogue itself hasn't really changed, but now Angel has a more New York sounding voice, so he's a lot more distinguished now. I was also working out my little story guide - I have a bunch of ideas for this, but I really needed to get everything organized so I had SOME idea of where I was going. So, yeah. Those are my reasons.

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO VII Oo.**

**Finally, Some Action**

* * *

Bendy and Undyne stared at Sandy in stunned silence, then the bodies at her feet, and finally at one another. For a moment, the only sounds were the hissing whispers of the demons in the stands, the fading wail of three flatlined vitals, and the subtle groaning of the Slaughter House as it shifted restlessly on it's foundation. A dozen unblinking red eyes watched from the ceiling, and the row of jagged teeth that ran along the edge of the combat ring seemed to grow ever sharper, hungry for blood.

The room held its breath.

Then the two demons leapt away in a flicker of motion, landing on opposite ends of the ring. Sandy stood between them, straight-backed and at ease, a stark contrast from the cowering mess she’d been a moment ago. 

Briefly, her gaze flickered up to the bidding box, and met with Alastor's smiling eyes.

"Well, shit!" Undyne said, a wicked grin tugging at her lip. An electric blue light ignited in her palm and formed itself into a harpoon, spinning across deft fingers in a blinding neon blur. "You really had us goin' there, huh?"

"Shoulda known that innocent little lamb routine was all bullshit," Bendy snorted, then spat on the ground and pulled a tommy-gun from the hammerspace at his back.

"Worked, didn't it?" Sandy smirked back. 

"On the small fry, maybe," Bendy sneered. "Dunno what the fuck ya did to 'em, but it ain't gonna be so easy takin'  _ me _ down, sweetheart." He ran his tongue over his upper fangs, and gave Sandy a wolfish grin, eyes roving across her body hungrily. "My offer still stands, by the way. Last chance."

"Hard pass," Sandy smiled. 

"Suit yourself, doll," Bendy shrugged, and opened fire.

Sandy dived to the side, yanking the bo staff from her pocket and spinning it like a baton. Both ends snapped out, alighting with sparks as a rain of bullets ricocheted off the tempered black steel. She ducked as a bolt of blue light lanced through the air across her shoulder, the harpoon burying itself in the floor at her feet with a crackling hiss. It sizzled out a moment later, leaving a scorched burn mark in its place. 

Sandy slammed the end of her staff into the floor, kick-flipping into a leaping pole-vault that carried her right over Bendy's head. She landed behind him in a low crouch, then spun on the ball of one foot and swept his legs out from under him with the other. The Ink Demon hit the floor with a grunt, rolling onto his back just as Sandy reared up over him, her face a hard mask of focused determination and one hand already aimed at his heart -

Only to leap away when a pool of blue light - about a foot in diameter - began to glow beneath her. An instant later, a harpoon punched up from the floor, held for a moment, and then sank back down again. Several more circles of light appeared beneath Bendy, and he scrambled away with a string of curses, hissing when one of them scored a shallow gash across his ribs.

Meanwhile, Undyne had charged Sandy with a guttural war-cry, driving at her with a series of lightning quick jabs, electricity arcing across her harpoon in a mesmerizing dance. Dozens more sprouted from the floor at Sandy's feet, forcing her into a complicated quick-step to avoid getting impaled.

"You’re pretty good, I’ll give ya that!" Undyne whooped, shark's teeth bared in a wild grin, sinewy muscles flexing as she whirled the harpoon in a wide arc before thrusting it up in a move that would have punctured Sandy's ribcage if she hadn't danced out of the way. "Don't disappoint me now! I want a good work out from you!"

Sandy took a jab at Undyne's exposed side - only to abruptly switch tactics and kick her out of the way as a line of bullets impacted the floor between them. 

Bendy was back on his feet, the tommy barking as Sandy rushed him in a wide arc, bo staff whirling like a helicopter blade under a rain of sparks. Bendy swung the gun around on her with a hissing snarl, only for Sandy to toss her staff up in the air and send it straight down the barrel with a spinning kick. The audience howled as it exploded in his hands, and Bendy threw the smoking hunk of ruined metal to the ground with a low growl.

Pin-pricks of red light ignited in his black eyes as his inky skin began to melt like hot tar and his body contorted with a series of loud cracks. His edges sharpened, features twisting into a horrific rictus grin as his limbs and spine stretched, legs warping into unnatural and beastly angles. 

His tail lashed out again, cutting through the air like a whip, forcing Sandy to leap back - and then twist in midair as three bolts of blue light whistled past, quickly followed by Undyne's fist. Sandy spun into a high kick that stunned the woman with a sharp blow to the head, heel cracking Bendy on the rebound, before staggering Undyne with a second kick to the chest. 

Finally, Sandy seized Undyne's arm in a lock, ducked under Bendy's slashing claws, then struck the woman's side with a series of short jabs. The blows were precise, hitting a cluster of pressure points around Undyne's heart, shutting the organ down instantly. She let out a choked sound as her vitals flatlined with a high-pitched wail, the light shorting out in her palm and her entire body going stiff before slumping bonelessly to the ground. 

_ "Undyne is out,"  _ drawled the announcer, while Sandy pivoted on her heel and charged straight at Bendy. 

" _ Shit _ !" he hissed, his body moving with an unnatural fluidity as he scrambled to dodge her strikes. Then his hand shot out, arm stretching like taffy, all the way to the other side of the ring where his claws gouged deep score marks in the floor. The limb snapped like a rubberband, slinging him across the arena and out of range.

"Yer somethin' else, girlie," Bendy huffed, arm retracing back to its normal length, black claws clenching into a fist as he sized her up. "But it looks like ya gotta get in close to take someone out. Lucky for me, I ain’t got that problem!"

This time both arms lashed out, nearly doubling in size and stretching across the arena as they whipped through the air in a pincer attack. Sandy leapt straight up, back-flipping into a crouch, then into a forward roll as the Ink Demon’s black hands twisted back on themselves and struck at her like a pair of snakes. 

And all the while, the bid amount flashing across the Jumbotron screens kept ticking ever higher…

**.oOo.**

"Alright. I’ll admit,” Vox said, a grudging sort of admiration shining in his eyes as he watched the fight continue. “Lambchop doesn’t suck.”

“Ha! She’s absolutely  _ marvelous _ ,” Alastor retorted, with steadfast conviction. Goodness, he’d known Sandy was powerful, but knowing something and seeing it with his own eyes were two very different things. The sheer level of skill she possessed was simply astounding. Every movement was graceful and controlled, each flowing into the next with practiced ease, like the whole thing was an intricately choreographed dance and she had been doing it her whole life. 

It was hard to believe this was her  _ holding back _ . Not just in the magickal sense, but physically as well. It hadn't escaped his notice that she preferred to dodge and deflect, but when she did strike, her blows were just hard enough to stun her opponent rather than injure them. That took precision and training. 

The thought of what she might look like at full power made him giddy. Now  _ that _ was certainly something he wanted to see! 

“Omi _ satan _ , she’s  _ amaze-balls _ !” Velvet cried, practically hanging off the edge of her seat in barely contained glee. “It's like watching a freakin’  _ anime _ ! Where'd she even learn to fight like that?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up," Val snapped, stealing one of Velvet's licorice sticks and taking a savage bite out of it. "Little bitch ain’t even usin’ any magick, how the fuck is she still standin’?” 

The moth slouched back in his chair with his eyes narrowed into slits and a sneer curling his lip. His lower pair of arms were crossed over his stomach, while the upper left drummed irritably against the armrest, and the last clenched his cigarette holder hard enough to dent the metal. Summer and Dia had been shoved to the floor, where they sat loosely wrapped around his legs, careful to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. 

“Oh, dear,” Alastor drawled, sharpening his claws on a nail-file, with the smuggest grin in the history of smug grins stretched across his face. "You're not sore you lost our little bet, are you? And so quickly, too!"

“Fight ain’t over yet, smartass,” Val spat, mouth contorted into a tight smile of his own. “After all, Angelcakes can’t exactly go back to that shitty hotel, if there ain’t no shitty hotel to go back  _ to _ . Vox wins, he’ll turn the place into a fuckin’ strip mall.”

"Or a parking garage," Vox added, tapping his screen thoughtfully. "I really hav-v-ven't decided yet."

“Don't think too hard on it, now; I wouldn't want you to strain yourself," Alastor retorted snidely, smirking when Vox's eyes narrowed. "It would be a fruitless endeavor, anyway, seeing as Sandy's going to win."

"Fancy mov-v-ves don't mean shit if she can't ev-v-ven get close," Vox pointed out, watching the slow-motion replay through his personal feed as Sandy dodged an attack from the Ink Demon. Both of Bendy's arms had split into three thin whips, each writhing like a slimy black eel as they attempted to tangle around her. The girl was only barely managing to stay out of their grasp through an admittedly impressive display of acrobatics, but she wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. It was just a matter of time, really.

Vox smiled.

"Don't know how she offed the others, but it's pretty obv-v-vious she needs physical contact to do it. All Bendy’s gotta do is stay out of her range, and she'll slip up ev-v-ventually," he said, his modulated voice echoing through the tiny (illegal) microphone hidden in Bendy's ear. “Kid’s got some skill, I’ll give you that, but nobody gets far in this world without  _ power _ .”

A small arc of blue electricity danced up his arm and across his claws.

“But you’d know all about  _ that _ , wouldn’t you, Bambi?” he purred, eyes cutting towards Alastor in a nasty leer. 

A surge of irritation bubbled up Alastor’s throat like hot bile - memories of countless battles jostling together like shards of glass - but he’d be damned if he let an ounce of it show on his face.

“Ah, but that’s always been your problem, hasn’t it?” he said lightly, not even bothering to look in Vox’s direction, which he knew the egotistical shit absolutely  _ hated.  _ “You take to everything like a sledgehammer, when a little subtlety and tact would serve far better. But I suppose that’s to be expected from the likes of  _ you _ .”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor caught the tiny glitch that sparked across Vox’s screen - a sure sign of his temper - and his smile widened in satisfaction. 

“And  _ you’v-v-ve _ always been too smart for your own good,” Vox sneered, the lights flickering as his aura flexed. Next to him, Val and Velvet wore matching smiles - sharp and dangerous - while an ominous red glow ignited in their eyes. 

The shadows deepened in response, bristling with eyes and teeth and claws, and though Alastor  _ still  _ hadn't taken his eyes off the ring, one hand curled over the head of his microphone. Eerie music began to filter through the air, cut through with jittering interference and a low static. 

“Do I need to separate you two?" Stolas asked in an amused trill, his head spinning a full 180° to fix them both with a warning look, all four eyes narrowed into thin red slits. "As entertaining as your little scuffles always are, I'm rather interested in the outcome of another battle at the moment."

"As am I!" Alastor grinned, the shadows retreating so abruptly it gave Vox and the others whiplash. The deer merely gave them a prim smile, adjusted his bow-tie, and dismissed the whole affair without a second thought. The lights sputtered again at the slight, but not even Vox was stupid enough to test Stolas, no matter how annoyed he was. 

"Excellent," Stolas cooed, and turned away once he was satisfied everyone had settled down. "Now, tell me, Alastor," he continued, tossing a few kernels of popcorn in his beak. "I must say I'm rather curious about your little friend down there. Where in the world did you find her? She certainly isn't like any mortal soul I've seen…"

"No, she certainly isn't!" Alastor agreed cheerfully, but didn't elaborate more than that. 

"Oh, alright, keep your secrets then," the owl huffed after a moment, waving a claw. "I'll find out one way or another…"

Then he glanced over at Seviathan, who hadn't spoken a word, but was sitting back in his seat with a decidedly wicked smile. Not at all the picture of sullen resentment the boy usually adopted when things didn't go his way. 

Something was up.

"You're taking your loss with much more grace than I would have expected," Stolas observed quietly. "Just what are you so happy about?"

Seviathan's smirk sharpened.

"Oh, I haven't lost just yet," he replied confidently. 

"...Don't know if you noticed, dear boy, but I'm afraid that dog of yours is very much dead," Stolas pointed out dryly.

"Just wait."

"For what?" Stolas asked, with an intrigued tilt to his head.

"You'll see," Seviathan said, his smile like something that had been dragged up from the depths, dark and cold and slimy.

**.oOo.**

Sandy dived to the side as a thick black tentacle slammed into the floor hard enough to leave a spider-web of cracks in its wake. The appendage warped and writhed, split apart like the heads of a hydra, only to twist back together again and grasp at her with claws as sharp as daggers.

At first, she had hoped to tire the demon out, but Bendy was surprisingly tenacious, and the longer this dragged out the more dangerous (and expensive) it became. It was all she could do to stay out of reach, much less get close enough to take him out for good. Every time she tried, half a dozen tentacles sprouted from his back and tangled around him in a bristling cage, forcing her to swiftly change course or risk getting snagged.

Time for Plan B.

"Is that really the best you can do?" Sandy called in a taunting, haughty tone as Bendy took a swipe at her. "I've seen  _ snails _ move faster than you. Are you even trying?"

"The fuck ya say to me?" Bendy demanded. 

"What, did I stutter?" Sandy retorted with a calculated smirk. "I said you  _ suck _ at this. I mean, seriously, where did you even learn to fight?  _ Grade school _ ?"

"Better shut that fuckin' mouth, before I shut it  _ for _ ya!" Bendy snarled, fury flashing across his face as he drove at her even harder. 

"Oooooh,  _ scary _ ," Sandy laughed, dancing out of his reach like a butterfly on the wind. "But this isn't a playground, sweetheart. So, how about you pull up your big boy pants and actually put in a little effort here. I'm getting  _ bored _ ."

" _ Fuck  _ you, ya little  _ bitch _ !" Bendy barked, forgetting all pretense and charging straight at her.

Sandy turned on her heel and bolted. 

"H-hey!" he shouted, scowling in angry confusion before giving chase. "Get back here! Ya ain't gettin' away from  _ me _ !"

"Catch me if you can, slowpoke!" Sandy called back in a mocking sing-song, running back to where Angel Dust lay sprawled out on the floor. Falling to her knees next to the spider, she snatched up the Webley revolver still clutched in his limp hand, then reached into the right pocket of his jumpsuit, where she'd seen him stash his cigarettes and lighter. 

Then she was up and running again, weaving between the tentacles trying to skewer her. Stuffing the lighter and cigs on her pocket, she cracked open the revolver and took a peek at the bullets.

Tipped with holy steel.

She knew Angel hadn't been lying when he'd told her she'd regenerate if he shot her, so he clearly hadn't known they were deadly. Had someone switched them out when he wasn't looking? To get him in trouble? The use of holy weapons was prohibited in the Slaughter House, not so much to protect the combatants, but because the bidders had gotten sick of always having to find new fighters every time they wanted to buy something. Honestly, it was really more of a guideline than an actual rule, but most demons still got salty if it was broken.

Sandy huffed. 

In this case, it meant she couldn't just shoot Bendy and end the fight right there, not unless she wanted to kill him for real. Despite how difficult he was being, she really didn't. 

On to Plan C, then. Good thing she'd thought to grab the cigarettes. Now, all she had to do was - 

A thick black tentacle whizzed past her ear, nearly slicing her head off.

Right. Enough woolgathering. Fighting time.

Sandy took a deep breath and picked up speed, kiting Bendy around the arena in a wide figure eight. Meanwhile, she shook the retaining.45's from the gun's six-holed cylinder - careful to keep her hands tucked in close so Bendy couldn't see what she was doing - and stowed them in her pocket.

Duck. Dodge. Kick off the wall.

She switched the revolver for Angel's cigarette case - a plastic red box all covered in glittery pink hearts - and dumped his fags out in her other pocket. Then she fished out one of the bullets. She had to be careful here. Too much magick use would draw attention, but hopefully this was small enough that no one would notice. 

Weave. Deflect. Backflip. 

Gathering her energy into the tips of her fingers, she manipulated her own electromagnetic field until the bullet was stuck fast in her grip, then pulled it out of its casing with her teeth (not an easy feat running full tilt but she managed). Dumping the gunpowder into the cigarette case, she repeated the process with the other four bullets, until she had collected a nice little pile.

Just enough to last a few seconds, but that was all she needed.

Feint. Roll up -  _ Leap!  _ \- Handspring.

Finally, she packed the cigarettes back in filters up, then snapped the case closed and dropped it back in her pocket. Next, she snatched up a bit of shrapnel from Bendy's destroyed tommy-gun, cut a strip of fabric off the sleeve of her jumpsuit, then dug out Angel's lighter and cut an opening through the cheap plastic bottom. She held her breath as the fuel inside started trickling out, thoroughly soaking the fabric cupped in her palm, which she rolled into a long thin wick.

Pivot. Lunge. Jump- _ jump _ - **_jump_ ** .

Pulling out the cigarette case again, she punched a hole into the flip-top, threaded the fuse through it, and lit the end on a spark from the empty lighter.

Picking up speed, Sandy raced across the ring, ran straight up the plexiglass wall and kicked off  _ hard.  _ The trajectory was calculated, carrying her right through the glare of the arena's flood lights, forcing Bendy to shield his eyes. 

And that's when Sandy threw the little plastic box. 

The fuse burned down, the cigarettes went up, the black powder ignited - and the whole thing exploded in Bendy's face.

To be fair, it was more like a flashbang than a bomb, going off with a great deal of noise and light, without causing much damage. But it was enough to make Bendy stagger, ears ringing and temporarily blind, desperately shaking his head to clear the white spots swimming across his vision.

Sandy hit him an instant later, both feet plowing into his chest in a double mule-kick that drove the air from his lungs. Then her hand struck like a viper, and his vitals flatlined with a sharp wail. 

Bendy was dead before he hit the floor.

The audience was silent for a beat. 

And then, as Sandy slowly rose to her full height, a low dull roar began to build, until every demon in the stands was screaming their approval. Sandy swept her gaze across the ring to make sure everyone was down.

And then she looked at Alastor. 

They both smiled. 

**.oOo.**

"What was that you were saying, Vox? About  _ power _ ?" Alastor asked delicately, thoroughly enjoying the glitches that stuttered through Vox's fixed grin. 

"Bitch got lucky, that's all," Vox shrugged dismissively, trying to pass it off as no big deal. Truthfully, he didn't give a shit about that stupid Hotel. But he didn't like to  _ lose _ .

Especially not to  _ Alastor _ .

"Oh-ho, I very much doubt that!" the deer said cheerfully, more than happy to rub his victory in the other demon's face. "Or perhaps you failed to notice?  _ Nobody even touched her. _ "

Vox's expression glitched again, a scowl briefly peeking through the inference, before his screen smoothed out once more. 

"Guess next time I'll just hav-v-ve to find someone who  _ can _ , then," he said with a dangerous smile. 

"Good luck with that!" Alastor smirked, before standing with a flourish, straightening his lapels and brushing down his coat. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I - "

"Not so fast," Seviathan said, teeth bared in a crooked grin. "I'm afraid the fight isn't over just yet."

Alastor cast a look at the dead hellhound down in the ring, and lifted a brow at the boy.

"Is that so?" he said, head tilting to the side with a mocking smile.

Instead of answering, Seviathan pulled something out of his pocket and held it up to the light. 

It was a large fang - a hellhound's canine, to be precise - about the length of his index finger. Every inch of it was covered in ancient runic carvings, almost too small to make out, but they looked vaguely Celtic. 

Seviathan smiled at it.

And then stabbed it into his palm.

**.oOo.**

The entire room  _ thumped _ . 

Sandy stumbled but kept her footing, grimacing at the sudden spike in pressure, before turning to the source of it. Dark energy was radiating off the fallen hellhound in powerful waves, warping the air around him, flickering like black fire. 

The hellhound’s eyes snapped open. A second pair of eyes opened above them, followed by a third, all six glowing with an angry crimson light. The hellhound’s body began to tremble, contorting with several sharp cracks, bones snapping as its form twisted and grew. Its muscles rippled and seized as the creature slowly got to all fours, its movements stiff and jerky, as if someone were pulling on invisible strings. 

And then its head split apart, face warping in opposite directions until two more emerged from either side, peeling away with the unholy sound of tearing flesh. Its tail did the same thing, dividing into three, while a second pair of forelegs sprouted from its ribcage.

Within moments, a giant three-headed wolf stood in the hellhound’s place. No longer flesh and bone, its body was composed entirely of flickering shadows, a writhing darkness that struggled to hold its shape, twisting away in smoky tendrils before coalescing once more. A dull red light burned deep in its chest, shining up through its throats and peeking through its ribs. 

“Hey, Shadow,” Sandy said conversationally, staring up at the Nightmare with something akin to put-upon resignation. “Soooo...You know how I said I probably wouldn’t need any help here?”

The Shadow gave her an affirmative squeeze.

The Nightmare opened its mouths - gaping black maws bristling with rows of jagged fangs - and let out an eerie chainsaw snarl that cascaded from one head to the other. It was the sort of sound that started in the back of the throat, and quickly ended up in someone else’s. 

“I might need a little help here.”   
  


* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you made it! Definitely a lot more action in this one. Hope ya'll enjoyed!


	8. Nothing Ventured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandy deals with the Blood Curse. Alastor deals with the Triple V's. No one is particularly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/17/2021: Changed Vox's voice a little in previous chapters.

**{HAZBIN¥HOTEL}**

**:Heaven Sent:**

**¤**

**.oO VIII Oo.**

**Nothing Ventured**

* * *

The Slaughter House _heaved_ , the walls of Auditorium Five constricting and retracting like the lungs of a great beast, and a deep bellow rumbled up from the depths of its very foundation. The eyes scattered across the ceiling began to roll in their sockets, darting every which way with quick jerky motions, while the gaping maw of teeth surrounding the combat ring seemed to sharpen in hungry anticipation.

The Nightmare grew in response, as centuries worth of putrid flesh and fetid blood was drawn up through the floor - ages upon ages of suffering, terror, rage, and death - entwining with the flickering shadow-fire of the beast's form and cloaking it in a thick layer of dark dripping meat.

A slick sheen of black slime began to coat the combat ring, making it difficult to move without slipping, while the atmosphere in the Auditorium became heavy and oppressive. The surrounding audience shifted restlessly, confused murmurs rippling through the boisterous shouts and lewd catcalls. 

And then the Nightmare pulsed, radiating a powerful wave of corrupt energy that swept through the stands, and dozens of watching eyes ignited with an angry crimson glow. Moments later, a choked scream rang out when a scaly demon twisted in his seat and buried his teeth in the closest throat, eyes glazed over in a red haze. Chaos erupted as several more low-level demons followed suit, violently attacking anyone who happened to be near.

In the same instant, the Nightmare lunged, three sets of jaws open wide enough to swallow Sandy whole, its insides lit with bloody hellfire. The Shadow convulsed around her, a fine tremor ripping down her spine, and she sprang straight up in the air - right before the middle head smashed into the floor where she'd been standing. She landed between its ears, then dived forward across its broad back as the other two heads swiveled around with snapping teeth, flesh writhing beneath her feet.

"Can you get a message to Alastor without drawing suspicion?" Sandy asked the Shadow in a low voice, landing in a crouch behind the massive creature, before ducking away when its tails transformed into a knot of hissing snakes. 

_"Of course, my dear!"_ Alastor's tinny voice replied, right in her ear - because _naturally_ he was listening. He sounded very small, though, as if broadcast through a tiny hidden microphone. A quick glance up at the VIP box confirmed Sandy's suspicion that he'd broadcast his voice without actually speaking aloud. _"Though I seem to recall you saying you wouldn't need my assistance in this matter."_

"Under normal circumstances, no," Sandy said dryly, huffing at the clear amusement in his voice. She lashed out, striking one of the meat serpents with a sharp jab, and disrupted the coagulated energy with a needle-thin injection of holy light. She was edging the line, though; anything bigger than that and it would start to draw attention. But the limb dissolved, only to reform itself a moment later and continue its assault. "But as you can see, _this_ isn't a normal circumstance."

Then she yelped as a writhing black appendage exploded through the floor at her feet - one of the Nightmare's legs had burrowed right through the concrete - the thick limb wrapping around her calf and throwing her bodily across the ring. She twisted sharply in midair, and just barely managed to spring off the plexiglass wall instead of slamming into it head first. 

Shit, she hadn't sensed it at all. The Nightmare's noxious aura was thick and heavy, filling the whole room and making it hard to detect an attack she couldn't see coming. 

_"Yes, you do seem to be having a spot of bother there,"_ Alastor observed cheekily. _"To think a hellhound of all things would give you so much trouble!"_

"Except it's obviously not a hellhound anymore, is it?" Sandy retorted, struggling to avoid the Nightmare's many jaws. "It's a Blood Curse, and a powerful one. I can't - "

The Nightmare screamed, and twisted in on itself, contorting tighter and tighter before it suddenly erupted in a shower of thin black needles that shot in every direction. 

Sandy threw her arm up over her head and turned away, gasping as a dozen spikes the length of her hand buried themselves in her back, writhing like leeches and trying to burrow deeper. The Shadow flexed, pulling the needles out in one go and letting them splatter to the floor, where they dissipated a moment later with a poisonous hiss.

"I can't take this thing out, not without a miracle, and that'll definitely draw attention," Sandy said through gritted teeth, already running again, the Nightmare charging after her like an oncoming freight train. "You need to get a hold of that deed, or at least get close to it, before I can make a move. Once Lucifer knows where I am, we won't have a lot of time."

_"How exciting! Alright, I’ll see what I can do, my dear,”_ Alastor replied. 

"Make it fast," Sandy panted as the Nightmare collapsed into a heaving, writhing black mass that slithered across the floor and surrounded her in a shadowy cage of clawing hands and snapping teeth. Sandy held her ground, hands moving in a blur of motion, striking anything that came within reach. But as quickly as the limbs dissolved, new ones formed in their place, and all the while the Nightmare was constricting tighter and tighter…

**.oOo.**

"Oh, _my_ ," Stolas smiled, sounding impressed. "Is that a Blood Curse? Where in the world did you find one so powerful?"

"Came in the mail this morning, along with the collar and a set of instructions," Seviathan shrugged. "No idea who sent it." His grin sharpened as the Nightmare howled and opened a long gash in Sandy's thigh. "But it looks like somebody out there likes me."

"I...see," Stolas hummed, rubbing his beak thoughtfully.

"So, what do you think, Alastor?" Seviathan asked in a snidely self-satisfied tone, watching as Sandy struggled against the horror he'd summoned. "Looks like your little lamb is having a bit of trouble down there."

"Nothing she can't handle, I'm sure," Alastor dismissed in an unconcerned tone, considering his options. He could sense the overwhelming energy of the Blood Curse from here, like a choking cloud of bitter fumes, and it was frankly astounding that Sandy had even lasted this long without magick. It was clear he would need to get involved, if he wanted this Deal to succeed, and he very much did. Not an easy feat in this particular crowd, but as they said, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Besides, he had a trick or two up his sleeve when it came to the Triple V’s.

"And where are you going?" Vox asked, when Alastor rose smoothly to his feet. The TV’s polished black shoes were propped up on the back of the seat in front of him, effectively blocking Alastor in, and he made no effort to move them. In fact, he stretched his legs out further, grinning up at the Radio Demon when Alastor fixed him with a sharp smile. "Fight's just getting good, Bambi."

"Or didn't ya wanna stick around and watch your little bitch get creamed?" Val added with a nasty sneer, languidly stretched out across the seat behind Alastor. "That's cold, baby."

Alastor took a breath.

The thing about shadow-walking, was that he needed direct contact with his Shadow to properly navigate. Without it, there was no telling where he might end up, and he couldn't afford to get lost now. So, if he wanted to reach the auctioneer's booth on the other side of the arena, he'd have to get there the old fashioned way.

Unfortunately, it looked like Vox was in the mood to make things difficult. 

Even more unfortunately, Alastor had neither the time nor the inclination to put up with it.

"Merely stepping out for a bit of fresh air," Alastor smiled, cocking his head at an almost unnatural angle. "There's only so much one's olfactory senses can take, after all! So, if you would be so kind…"

He gave Vox's crossed legs a pointed look, which the TV Demon ignored.

"Nah, don't think I will," Vox drawled, folding his arms behind his head and making himself comfortable. "Besides, you're up to something. Dunno what yet, so I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Have it your way," Alastor smiled, then twirled his microphone and promptly smacked Vox across the shins.

"F-FUCK!" Vox howled, more surprised than injured, but he instinctively curled in on himself just enough to let Alastor slip past him. He clearly hadn't been expecting the attack, and Alastor took the opportunity to smash the end of his microphone straight through his stupid fucking face.

Vox's body jerked, screen sparking violently as a series of colored bars flashed across it before going black, and he slumped back in his seat with an electronic whine.

By that time, Alastor was already out the door. Hopefully, he'd bought himself at least a few minutes with that little stunt.

"Voxy!" Velvet cried, nearly dropping her phone in shock. 

"Son of a _bitch_ ! _After him_!" Valentino snarled furiously, surging to his feet so fast that Summer and Dia had to scramble to get out of the way. 

Stolas and Seviathan merely exchanged a glance, before settling back to watch the show.

Velvet shot Vox one last worried look, before her eyes flashed in manic fury, and she took off after Alastor. 

However, if there was one good thing about being part deer, it was that he could _run._

"Aww, come on, Al!" Velvet called in a sing-song voice, a pair of enormous silver scissors appearing in her hands as she chased him down the hall. "Why are ya runnin' away? Don'tcha wanna plaaa~aaay?" 

"Apologies, my dear, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline!" Alastor called back over his shoulder. The red X between his brows began to glow, and he clenched a fist, claws digging into his palm. Several droplets of blood splattered across the floor, each one opening a portal through which a tangle thorny black vines emerged to ensnare the doll. 

Velvet managed to cut through some of them, but the majority wrapped tightly around her arms and legs, pulling tight in an attempt to rip her apart. 

"Oh, I don't think so!" the doll giggled, and splayed her hand wide. Razor-thin strings of red energy flared from her finger-tips, and a dozen stuffed animals poofed into existence in clouds of multi-colored smoke. 

They landed awkwardly on their feet, limbs jerking like a marionette's, flopping about like the cute little children's toys they appeared to be. There was a lion, a dog, an elephant, a tiger, a white rabbit, and several teddy bears. They would look at home in any young girl's nursery.

And then Velvet twitched her fingers, and the toys' mouths snapped open to reveal the bear traps stapled into their heads.

As one they turned to look at Alastor, button eyes glowing like hot embers. 

"Get 'em, babies!" Velvet yelled, and the toys shot at the deer like horrifically adorable bullets. 

A pack of Alastor's voodoo minions surged out of the shadows to meet them, black ichor and stuffing filling the air as they tore into one another. 

The only one that managed to make it past all that was the rabbit, which flew at Alastor's face with its jaws wide open. An instant later, it was impaled on the end of the deer's microphone, and he flung it into the wall without even breaking his stride. 

He was halfway to the auctioneer's booth before the corridor began filling with bright red smoke. Half-formed figures moved through the haze, reaching for him with grasping hands that caught on the hem of his coat and wrapped around his arms and legs. 

A screech of harsh feedback rent the air when he felt one of those hands begin to slide up his inner thigh, and Alastor swept it away with slashing claws. Radio dials flickered in his eyes, twitching back and forth in a wild staccato, and his antlers sprouted from his skull like twisted branches. 

Valentino materialized from the smoke with a lascivious smirk, and Alastor turned to him with a rigid grin, fangs bared.

"Now, now, Bambi," Val drawled in a lazy tone, taking a deep drag off his cigarette, the smoke encasing him in an impenetrable cocoon. "That wasn't very nice, back there."

"Ha! You of all people should know by now, 'niceness' isn't one of my virtues," Alastor retorted, a sneer twisting his irrepressible smile. 

The air was becoming thick and heavy, the perfumed scent of roses masking the sickly sweet smell of drugs lingering beneath. It pulled at Alastor's senses, made his vision swim with an almost dreamlike haziness, dulled his reaction speed. It was a siren's song, beckoning him with false promises of pleasure into a slow, choking demise. His skin crawled, at once feeling too hot and too tight, and his stomach bottomed out when he felt one of those hands trail down his torso towards his groin.

But drugs had never been Alastor's particular poison, and he waved the smoke away as if shooing off a fly, his smile twisted in absolute disgust. More hands reached for him, going for his nose and mouth, but Alastor pointed his microphone directly at Valentino and blasted him with a screech of discharged radio interference. 

How Angel Dust put up with this revolting little insect was utterly beyond him. 

The moth hissed and flinched back, top pair of hands clapping down over his antenna, while the third drew a gun from his coat pocket.

So unimaginative.

Alastor snapped, and more black vines lashed out at Valentino while the deer's form melted into shadow, and the over-saturated colors of the moth's drug-laced magick shifted into a muted black and white monochrome. 

The sound of a gunshot echoed and distorted as Alastor flitted down the corridor, blending with the muffled cacophony he could hear through the shadow-doors, emanating from the thousands of different places the light couldn't touch. Snippets of conversation, a TV blaring, gunfire, soft music, somebody crying, an explosion. Too easy to get lost there, without his other half, so he ignored the doors and continued on his way down the hall. He couldn't hold this form for long, so speed was essential.

Meanwhile, dozens of his minions had crawled out of the woodwork to slow down Valentino, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to hold him up for long. Already, the moth’s smoky tendrils were ripping them apart, and Alastor sighed in annoyance. He would have to spend the next few evenings making more, and that was just from today’s losses. 

Still, if everything went to plan, it would be _well_ worth it. 

He kept his ears tuned for a radio, of course, but all he got back were the complicated frequencies of smart phones and televisions. A radio he could jump to, but these new devices were beyond him, much as he was loath to admit it. Too much noise and interference, an incomprehensible stream of data that rushed by too quickly for him to grab on to. 

At last, he reached the auction booth and reformed, taking a moment to straighten his hair and fix his bow-tie before turning the handle and striding through the door. The first thing he noted were the six or seven screens arranged along the opposite wall, arrayed over the large window that overlooked the combat ring. 

Vox’s grinning face was displayed across every single one. 

Arcs of electricity jumped from one to the other, growing stronger and brighter, until a bolt of lightning shot from each screen and coalesced into the center of the room. Abruptly, the lights sputtered and died with a punchy pop, and the room was engulfed in darkness. 

...And then a single screen lit up.

Right in the middle of the room, and still cracked from Alastor’s attack earlier. 

“Ah,” Alastor said, smirking up at the screen looming over him. “Did you have a good nap?”

A bolt of electric blue lightning stuck him squarely in the chest, picking him up off his feet and hurling him backwards into the wall. He struck it hard, and crumpled to his knees, but managed to stay conscious despite the crackling agony setting his nerve endings alight. Smiling up through his bangs, he watched as Vox strode towards him, expression never wavering even when the demon grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head back. 

“That,” Vox said conversationally, but his voice glitched every now and then with poorly controlled fury. “Was a _r-r-really_ stupid thing to do. The fu-u-uck are you trying to p-pull here? Or did you just not learn y-y-your lesson from the _la-a-ast_ time?”

“What? I simply got tired of looking at your ridiculous face, that’s all!” Alastor laughed, and kept laughing even when Vox wrapped a hand around his throat, projecting his voice despite the lack of air. By this time, though, red smoke was pooling around his knees, and he tensed as a dozen incorporeal hands reached out, pulling his arms tight behind his back while several more slid up his thighs. 

“Aw, ya caught him already!” came Velvet’s girlish giggle, before he threw herself into Alastor’s lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “And here I was hopin’ we could have a little more fun. You’re gettin’ slow, old man~!” 

She poked the deer’s cheek with a sharp grin, only to jerk back when he snapped at her fingers, tittering with laughter. 

“Oh, don’tcha worry, babydoll, I know _plenty_ of ways we can have some fun with this little sonovabitch,” Valentino drawled, looming over Alastor with a nasty sneer. 

“None of which I’d care for, I’m sure,” Alastor replied, radio eyes darkening even further and his smile becoming something truly grotesque. **“Now unhand me, filth.”**

Thorny black vines exploded from the gloom, cutting into the three demons like barbed wire, and giving Alastor just enough time to focus on the soul-links he shared with Husk and Niffty. 

He snapped his fingers. 

Immediately, two portals opened in the ceiling, the cat and ladybug tumbling through them.

“Aw, _shit_!” Husk yowled, instinctively twisting in midair and landing directly on top of Valentino. But he was used to getting summoned into the thick of things, and didn’t hesitate to rake his claws down the moth’s back, already hissing and spitting. "A fuckin' warning woulda been nice!" 

Valentino spat a cloud of fumes at the cat, who in turn pulled out a deck of playing cards. They flipped and danced between his expert claws, spinning through the air like shuriken, razor edged and deadly. 

Niffty hit the ground right in front of Alastor, and pulled a three foot long sewing needle from her pocket with a manic smile. 

“Hi, Velvet! I’d get off him now, if I were you!” she sang, before jabbing the needle at Velvet’s head. The doll ducked out of the way before she caught it in the eye, and danced out of reach, scissors materializing in her hand. Niffty darted after her, threading her needle with a thin red string attached to a large wooden spool the size of a bowling ball. It whistled through the air as she spun it in one hand, nearly screaming as it flew towards Velvet, and hit the floor hard enough to crack it when the doll flipped backwards into a handspring. 

Alastor wrenched himself away from Val's smoky hands, aiming his microphone at Vox, but the TV Demon discharged a sphere of electricity that burned away his vines in seconds and scorched a web of black burns up Alastor's arm. The deer melted back into the shadows, trying to slip past him, but Vox slammed his cane down on top of him. Another bolt of lightning ripped through his nervous system, and he was forced back into his physical form, biting down hard on the scream building in his lungs.

A clawed hand wrapped around his throat and pinned him to the wall. 

"You didn't ho-o-onestly think you could at-t-tack me, and get away w-w-with it, did you?" Vox sneered, burning Alastor's minions to ash when they attempted to swarm him. 

Spiky TV antennas were bristling along Vox's shoulders and back like a demonic porcupine, while six sparking electrical plugs extended from his ribs and buried themselves in Alastor's chest. The deer's smile twisted as his muscles seized up in agony, refusing to utter a sound even as he jerked uncontrollably, blood trickling down his chin.

"Fa-a-ace it," Vox continued, watching him twitch with a sick pleasure in his digital eyes. "You're a washed u-u-up _has-been_ , old man. Only reason I let you liv-v-ve so long is because I like watching you struggle to keep up with me." Then he drew a gun, and pressed it against the X between Alastor's brows. "But it looks like you might hav-v-ve forgotten where you stand. _So let me remind you._ "

And he pulled the trigger.

There was a blur of black and white, and Alastor felt the bullet graze past his cheek, leaving a thin red line. The plugs were yanked away, and Alastor immediately shifted into his shadow form, flowing between Vox's legs into the auction booth.

A pained yowl brought him up short, and Alastor paused just long enough to see Husk hit the ground. He was smoking and twitching, fur sticking out in all directions, blood leaking from his mouth and nose. 

One golden eye blearily looked up at him, with the tired understanding that Alastor wouldn't stop to help him.

"...fuckin' _bastard_ …" the old cat wheezed - before a shot rang out and his head erupted in a grisly shower of blood and bone and brain matter.

Alastor slammed the door shut.

A tangle of thorny black vines quickly sealed it closed, but he knew that wouldn't stop Vox for very long.

Already, the screens along the wall were starting to glitch. 

“Now then,” Alastor said primly, straightening his cuffs and turning to the flustered bird demon sitting behind the desk with a frozen smile. “I would like to see the deed to the Apple Estate. I assume you have it, correct?”

“I - well, yes, but - “ the bird stuttered, feathers ruffling in alarm as Alastor's minions tore the screens down and smashed them to pieces. “Th-the fight hasn’t been called yet, and I can’t just - “

“Where. Is it?" Alastor said sharply, in no mood to quibble. His frequencies stuttered, trying to catch a jazzy tune, but all he could hear was static.

Outside, Niffty had started screaming.

The bird took one look at Alastor's face - skeletal radio eyes, rigor mortis grin, bristling antlers - before yanking open a drawer and pulling out a red file. 

"I-i-t's all here, just t-t-take it!" he stammered, shoving the document across the desk. 

"Much obliged, my good fellow!" Alastor beamed, flipping through it briefly, before he snapped it closed once more with a satisfied nod. "Excellent! Now then... _Sandy, dear! I believe it's high time to wrap things up here!"_

Several things happened at once.

The door exploded in a violent burst of electric blue energy, Alastor's vines turning to ash in an instant. Vox stood in the frame with a furious scowl glitching across his screen, gaze locked onto Alastor with murderous intent. 

And in the same instant, a high-pitched ringing pierced his ears, and a blinding white light filled the room.

**.oOo.**

Sandy couldn't breathe. 

A thick, black tentacle of rotting flesh and blood and bone was wrapped around her chest, tightening like a boa constrictor every time she tried to draw in air. One arm was pinned to her side, while the other clawed at the tendrils slowly winding around her throat. Her vision was blurring at the edges, and there was a roaring sound in her ears, but whether that was from the screaming crowd or her own frantic heart she couldn't tell.

Then a great, broad head began forming itself out of the congealed fleshy mass, reddish black drool dropping from its open jaw. It looked vaguely dog-like, but there were too many eyes, and it's mouth was a distorted mess, twisting off down one side of its neck. 

Shit, if Alastor didn't hurry up, she might have to -

_"Sandy, dear!"_ his cheerful tinny voice sounded in her ear. _"I believe it's high time to wrap things up here!"_

Oh, thank _Heaven._

Sandy gathered herself. Slowly, her wings began to press open, straining not only against the Nightmare, but Alastor's Shadow as well. The Shadow, at least, seemed to realize what was happening, and dropped the glamour at once, sliding off her body like an oil slick. 

The moment it let go, Sandy's wings exploded outward - an instant before the giant head lunged at her - and ripped the Nightmare apart. It screamed as she dropped to the floor, the separate pieces already wriggling back together again, snapping at her with a dozen moths bristling with rows of teeth. 

Sandy fished her halo out of her pocket, the golden ring expanding as it shot back to its place over her head as if magnetized. Then she extended her hand, halo spinning as she drove her vibrational energies as high as they would go, and struck the Nightmare with a burst of blinding white light. 

The scream it let out this time was soul deep, a long keening wail that seemed to go on and on forever, so full of suffering and anguish it physically hurt to hear it. 

And then the beast lurched forward, vomited a ton of putrid black ichor all over the floor, before it finally collapsed in on itself and went deathly still. 

As the Nightmare's toxic energies faded, the demons that had started attacking the others in the crowd seemed to snap back to themselves, blinking in confused surprise at their own blood-soaked hands.

Sandy took the opportunity to make sure her opponents were really down for good this time, then turned on the spot and vanished before anyone in the crooked realized what she was and started a panic.

She appeared at Alastor's side a moment later, and blinked up at his half-transformed state. He was almost twice his regular height, his limbs and torso stretched impossibly long. His face was gaunt and skeletal, red eyes sunken into shadowed sockets, with black drool trailing down his chin.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one having a bit of trouble," she said with a wry smile, and offered him a handkerchief. 

"Ha! Nothing I couldn't handle, my dear!" Alastor grinned, wiping his mouth daintily as he shifted back into his more human form. His Shadow settled around his shoulders, easing some of the knotted tension there, and Alastor breathed a small sigh of relief. He disliked being separated from it for too long.

"You have the deed?" Sandy asked.

"In _deed,_ I do!" Alastor beamed, holding up the file while Sandy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

"The fu-u-uck is this?" Vox demanded, staring down at Sandy with wide eyes, question marks briefly glitching across his screen. 

"Holy shit, that's the angel everybody's talking about!" Velvet cried, poking her head around Vox. 

Niffty's limp body hung from the doll's bloodied fist by the scruff of her blouse.

"The fuck are you talking about - " Valentino started as he ducked through the door, only to stop short when he laid eyes on Sandy. His gaze traveled down her body slowly, before coming back up to meet her eyes, and a lascivious smile curled his lip.

"Well, well," he purred, tilting his head down so he could get a look at her over his heart-rimmed shades. The fact that she was an angel didn't seem to deter him in the slightest. "Hello, _darling_ ~"

Sandy felt Alastor bristle as the moth stepped closer - and then everything just...stopped. Alastor, the three demons in the doorway, the crowd in the stands, everyone was frozen. _Everything_. Including the blood dripping from Niffty's face, the red droplets hanging suspended in midair. 

A timelock.

Sandy reached out and took Alastor's wrist, her halo expanding until it was the size of a large hoola-hoop. It lowered around the both of them in a protective circle, hovering at waist height and spinning slowly. A pulse of energy, and the spell was broken.

Alastor blinked awake and looked around in surprise, before turning to her with keen interest.

"Oh, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" he smiled.

"Somebody's messing around with time," Sandy explained quickly. "Which means we're running out of it, since I'm pretty sure I know who it is. So…"

Sandy drew in a deep breath...and held out her hand to shake.

Alastor cocked his head, tempted to just take it right then and there, but he was curious. 

"I haven't upheld my end of the bargain yet," he pointed out.

"No," Sandy agreed. "But I trust that you're a man of your word."

"Ha!" Alastor grinned, a little bemused despite himself. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had trusted him with anything. People had good reason not to, of course, but in this instance Sandy was right. 

He _always_ made good on his promises.

"That I am, my dear!" he said cheerfully, and took her hand in his own.

And the whole world _shifted_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! Sorry this one took so long guys, been dealing with life stuff. Plus, I live in Texas and the weather here has been CRAZY. Anyway, hope you guys like this one, I'm having a blast with this story. Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it, you will make my day! ( And possibly inspire more writing in the future....) Also, big thank you to everyone who HAS left kudos or comments on this, I'm so happy you guys like the story so far! And as always, stay tuned for more updates.


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